Behind Enemy Gates
by AMJohnson
Summary: To end the war, Hermione must hide behind enemy lines at the Malfoy Manor, posing as a pureblood sympathizer of the Dark Lord. However, once on the inside, she realizes things are not at all as they appear. With Draco watching her every move, can she figure out Voldemort's plans before her true identity is revealed? HG/DM.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** To end the war, Hermione must hide behind enemy lines at the Malfoy Manor, posing as a pureblood sympathizer of the Dark Lord. However, once on the inside, she realizes things are not at all as they appear. Can she figure out Voldemort's plans before her true identity is revealed? HG/DR.

 **Author's Note: This story takes place after the events of the Half-Blood Prince, and ignores the general timeline of the Deathly Hallows (though many of the events will be recognizable). If you've been reading my other fanfic** _ **The Labyrinth,**_ **this one is darker and contains more mature content. It is a Dramione, but it will build up slowly (with all of that delicious tension we love so much). I know it sounds cliché, but I promise I have created new twists. Passages written in italics are flashbacks. Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters but the plot and story are my own. Let me know what you all think! - AMJ**

* * *

 **Behind Enemy Gates**  
 _Chapter 1_

Never before had Draco sat so still as he did in this moment, surrounded by the most powerful and dangerous wizards in the world. The dining room table in the Malfoy Manor stretched almost the entire length of the extravagantly dark room. Positioned at the head of the table, cast in shadow, was none other than the Dark Lord himself. Draco felt deeply troubled by the uncharacteristic smirk that rested upon Voldemort's snakelike face.

The Dark Lord wordlessly stood and lifted his wand, pointing it at the closed door that led to the kitchen. Without a sound, the door slowly opened, and a body covered in a black sheet was levitated out. Draco's heart sank. Likely another wizard whom Voldemort had interrogated for information. There had been three this week alone, each body looking more gruesome than the last. No one in the room dared move, and no one dared to look away for fear of appearing weak. Draco followed suit as he had become accustomed, keeping his face impressively devoid of any emotion. His silver eyes hardened, preparing for the horror that was about to be uncovered.

The black sheet gently peeled back off the body it covered, revealing the unfortunate soul. Draco could not help himself, and for the briefest of moments, his cold eyes reflected the painful seizing of his heart at the sight before him.

Fresh blood pooled behind his godfather's eyes and gurgled out of his mouth, bubbling slightly before trickling down his face and silently splashing onto the dining room table. It took all the strength Draco possessed to keep his face expressionless, to keep his body still, despite the rage that flooded his veins. A loud, womanly cackle broke the deadly stillness of the room. From beside Voldemort, Bellatrix's eyes were alight with a wicked desire, staring lovingly at the droplets of blood splashing onto the wooden table.

"The man before you thought it would be wise to assist Dumbledore," Voldemort took a long pause, surveying each mind within the room. "I am here to inform you, that it was dreadfully...unwise," Voldemort's voice filled with poisonous malice, infecting each beating heart at the table with an unnerving warning. The message was clear; There was no escaping the Dark Lord's wickedness. Furthermore, should you be caught, regardless of who you were, there would be lethal consequences. Cool drops of sweat tickled the back of Draco's neck as they silently slid down his back. How had he managed to get himself into such an unwelcome position as this- seated near the head of the table as his mentor was floating dead before him?

It was well known that the Malfoy's had fallen out of grace with the Dark Lord due to his father's stupidity and pride. The only reason Draco believed the Dark Lord kept them alive at all was because of the attempt made by Lucius to bring back Voldemort via his old diary years ago. While that action had perhaps kept them breathing, it did not mean that they were held in high regard. Voldemort used the Malfoy's for their fortune, their power, their influence at the Ministry, and now, he was using them for their home.

Draco's role in his family had changed over the years since the Dark Lord had returned. At first, he was eager to answer his call to duty, to protect the sacredness of his pure bloodline. Draco was not one to shy away from power. It drew him in like a dragon blindly following its call to gold. However, it did not take long for Draco to realize that he was nothing more than a pawn being used by the Dark Lord to punish his father. While Draco was considered to be very much like his father, he possessed an inherent strength to see the true motivations in people, to read through carefully constructed masks. Above all else, Draco was intelligent beyond his years. As Draco surpassed expectations, surviving missions that were intended to kill him, the Dark Lord took notice to the brilliant Malfoy heir.

Now, he was sitting near Bellatrix, only a few places away from the Dark Lord himself, holding the seat his father has always dreamed of having. But all the power in the world would not erase the image before him, would not stop the slow trickle of blood that was dripping out of his godfather's eyes.

 _Severus could not possibly have been a spy_ , Draco thought despondently as he tried to stare without seeing the brutal scene before him. The silence of the room was broken again, this time by the wicked cackle of the Dark Lord as he watched his words take root in the hearts of his most loyal followers. And with that the meeting was over; All the secrets Severus held, his vast knowledge of Dumbledore's plans, died with him that day in the Malfoy Manor.

* * *

It had been one of the last pieces of information their late informant had given the Order before his betrayal. Severus had alerted them to the travel arrangements of a powerful, but notoriously secretive pureblood family. The matriarch was a woman believed to be one of the lost descendants of Antioch Peverell, and she, along with her two granddaughters would be soon traveling to join the Dark Lord at the Malfoy Manor. The purpose and intent of the pureblood witches, however, still remained a mystery. Given this information, the Order quickly realized of their opportunity to penetrate the Dark Lord's inner circle; A plan that was dangerous but nonetheless a breakthrough in the unyielding war, and the Order was nearly out of options. To say they were losing control of the war was an understatement.

The slaughter betrayal of Severus, and his murder of Dumbledore dealt a crushing blow to the resistance. No longer was there any information leaking from the tightly loyal circle of pureblood sympathizers, and the number of witches and wizards willing and able to fight back against the darkness choking the wizarding world was dwindling. The ministry had all but become consumed by dark forces. Without new information, the Order would always fall a few steps behind. Thus, the unfeasibly mad plan to place a new spy amongst the Dark Lord's inner circle was birthed in desperation, as a last attempt to secure their victory.

They would only have moments to orchestrate the nearly impossible plan, one that had been worked on relentlessly over the last few weeks. Hermione thought back to the deliberation process, visualizing the exact moment she had become an integral part of the mission to infiltrate the Malfoy Manor.

 _Hermione massaged her temples against the onslaught of yelling drumming in her ears. This fight had been going on for hours, quite literally. The members of the Order, at least, those of the Order who were still left after the last months of battles, were arguing about how to proceed on their next mission. The screaming was causing her ears to hum with pain._

 _"That's quite enough!" Hermione cried out, uncharacteristic frustration coating her tone. A hush fell over the room, shocked into silence by the scream from the normally even toned woman. "I am more than capable of taking care of myself. I am more than capable of doing this. If it's the only way, then so be it."_

 _" Hermione-" Ron stuttered out, but he was immediately quieted by her sharp glare._

 _"I can make my own decisions Ron, I've proven myself enough." Her voice was harsher than she intended, but she was well beyond the point of caring. This was war, and her friends knew her better than this. It was time to put aside their childish notions of shielding her. She had always been the one to look after them, and yet they still viewed her as a fragile girl who needed defending. She was her own woman, who had faced the same trials that they had. It was her time to be more than just the researcher of the group._

 _"Without this information we have nothing. Snape is dead-"_

 _"Slimy git," Harry muttered venomously, still furious at his betrayal. "What if the information is false? And Snape wanted us to be caught in a trap?"_

 _"He's right you know," Ron agreed._

 _"We have no real way of knowing," Remus said, frustrated at their predicament._

 _"But without this we have nothing. Dumbledore is dead," Hermione whispered somberly." I will not watch as we are all killed off one by one.. It's time to act," Hermione passionately spoke, her palms pressed tightly down on the table in front of her." Ron and Harry can continue to look for the Horcruxes. I'll leave my current notes with them. In the meantime, I will continue on to the Manor and gather any information about Voldemort's plans that I can."_

 _Encouraged by Hermione's absolute confidence, Tonks spoke up next._

 _"I'll go with her, two brains are better than one, after all," Tonks smirked at Hermione from across the table, as the rest of the members in the room frowned in disapproval. Remus, who was pale and drawn due to the impending full moon, suddenly looked as though he would explode._

 _"Absolutely not," he hissed. Hermione had never heard his voice take on quite so much rancor before._

 _"And why shouldn't I be there? Out of all of us, I likely understand the ways of pureblood families the most. Hermione may need some help passing as a high born witch," Tonks quickly turned to Hermione, "No offense of course." Hermione lightly held up her hands to show she took no offense by Tonks words. She knew the other witch was right. It would also be advantageous to have someone with Tonks's unique ability as a spy for the Order. Remus let out a deep breath before speaking._

 _"Tonks, we will discuss this later," Remus wearily responded."As for you Hermione, this task... you won't just be drinking a simple polyjuice potion. We don't have the time to brew it, and it is just too risky. The magic involved to change your appearance for such a long amount of time is dark. It is unnaturally dangerous. If performed incorrectly, it will kill its caster," Remus whispered, trying to quell the fear in his voice._

 _"And what exactly does this dark magic involve?" Hermione cautiously asked._

 _"There is a potion you must drink. Severus, before he was caught, brought us the last of his potions stores so we should have the necessary ingredients. The potion will help you bind yourself to the soul of your target, and then you will continually draw from her magic. As long as she is kept alive, your magical channels will be linked, and you will take on her appearance."_

 _"And how long will the effects of the ritual last?" Hermione questioned._

 _"To the best of my knowledge, the only way to sever the bond once you would like to return to your natural form is for one of you to kill the other." Remus looked severe and brooding, carefully studying every inch of Hermione's face, looking for signs that she was unprepared to take on this task._

 _"So, I will need to kill her when this is over?" Hermione, knowing she was being evaluated, kept her voice and face devoid of any emotion, concealed behind a carefully placed veneer. Truthfully, Hermione was unsure she had it in her to wield such dark forces._

 _"Yes," Remus stated, his words falling heavy in her ears. Hermione quickly glanced around the room at everyone that she loved. Her heart would never be able to bear the burden of losing any of them. Determination taking hold of her, Hermione exhaled slowly._

 _"I can do this."_

Hermione thought about that conversation often over the last week. She had spent nearly every waking hour researching, perfecting the potion and learning the ritual. No one was allowed to help in this journey, as the spell would not work otherwise. When she was not crafting the potion, Hermione was learning everything she could about becoming a perfect pureblood heiress, and also, about the Peverell bloodline. She was to take on the appearance of Elanor Pemberton, the granddaughter of Madam Victoria Pemberton, while Tonks was set to become Adria Pemberton.

The pureblood family was not well known, shrouded in secrecy, and even in the oldest of books very little information regarding them could be found. Both granddaughters were rumored to be taught by private tutors, having never stepped foot in a wizarding school before. Rarely was any company entertained at the Pemberton Manor. Madam Pemberton was, in all senses of the word, a recluse; a powerful woman who believed so fully in the ideology that purebloods were superior, that she could not risk mixing with the rest of the world. Severus had imparted on them the knowledge of how to infiltrate the Manor. During a short window of time, the Malfoy Manor's floo would be opened, allowing the three women to pass through.

Hermione and a few members of the Order were currently camped outside the Pemberton Manor, having managed their way through the wards. Harry and Ron had left the day prior to begin their own search for Horcruxes. She was secretly relieved by this fact because she was not sure she would be able to go forward with this if they were here. Now that the moment had arrived to put her hard work into action, Hermione felt ill. Her orders, though simple in theory, were going to prove extremely difficult in practice. The sequence of events had to be executed flawlessly, something Hermione and the Order had tirelessly worked to get right.

 _"And...Elanor? What will you do with her?" Hermione dared to ask, though in her gut she knew she would be disappointed at the answer._

 _"She must be kept living in order for you to stay alive and maintaining her appearance."_

 _"So she will be a prisoner," Hermione surmised, the thought making her feel ill at ease. Remus nodded, sighing._

 _"It's painful, you know, the things we must do for war," Remus whispered, dejected and clearly worn down by the prospect of holding a prisoner. "But this may be our only opportunity to win. You must try and understand why Voldemort would bring them to the Malfoy Manor. What information do they possess that makes them valuable to him? Secondly, should there be any mention of new Horcruxes or plans, you are to contact us as quickly as possible."_

 _"Oh yes! About that," Hermione exclaimed, suddenly sitting up straighter. "I think I've come up with a way to communicate undetected while we are at the Manor." Hermione reached into her bag and retrieved two, small, leather-bound journals. Intrigued, Remus leaned forward to further inspect the items while Hermione continued speaking._

 _"I actually got the inspiration from Tom Riddle's diary. Messages can be written in the books. As soon as they are written, the words will disappear. To make a message appear, all you must do is tap the pages. They are enchanted so that the message can only be read by certain people. Once it has been read, the message disappears forever."_

 _"And how did you manage that?" Remus chuckled, highly impressed by the skill level of the witch before him._

 _Hermione blushed crimson, "I dipped the books in a potion with hair from each of the members of the Order." Remus responded with a hearty laugh this time._

 _"Brilliant!"_

From afar, Hermione saw the signal given to proceed. They quickly entered the back entry way. The Pemberton women were set to be waiting in the study, where their fireplace was located. The house was cloaked in complete darkness, making their passage to the study simultaneously easier and difficult; they could effortlessly avoid detection in the shadows, but they had to be extremely careful not to break anything. There were only a few minutes before the floo would be opened for their passage through to the Malfoy Manor.

Remus and Arthur led the way towards the study, remaining absolutely silent. Hermione squinted to see through the darkness, noting the many paintings sleeping on the walls. She paused briefly, fear suffocating her. This was truly it, the moment Hermione would possess a magic so terrible as to rival some of the darkest wizards in history. From beside her, Tonks grabbed her hand, pulling her forward reassuringly. Through the darkness, she thought she saw Tonks smile at her, and it settled her stomach momentarily, allowing her to move forward. The study was only a short distance down the hall from the back door they had entered through. Remus paused before he reached the door. It was slightly ajar, and a flickering light was emitting from within, making the shadows appear to come alive. Checking that the others others were behind him, Remus nodded once before charging into the study.

Their burst into the room startled the two younger women- who Hermione presumed were Elanor and her sister Adria- but Madam Victoria made no pause before sending the first curse hurling through the air. Remus effortlessly blocked it and sent a stunning charm of his own forward. It narrowly missed the elderly woman. As he and Arthur worked to subdue Madam Victoria, Hermione and Tonks were each responsible for stunning her granddaughters.

"Adria!" Tonks cried out testing to see which woman responded. The head of the girl sitting closest to Madam Victoria snapped to focus on Tonks. "Gotcha," Tonks muttered beside Hermione before sending a stream of blue light from the tip of her wand and sprinting forward.

Hermione, gathering every last drop of courage she possessed rushed to where Elanor was sitting in the corner of the study. Elanor was clearly dumbstuck, looking around for her family to come and aid her. Seeing her grandmother battling two wizards, and her sister blocking curses from another she shakily raised her wand in front of her. Hermione very quickly disarmed her, and Elanor's wand was sent flying easily into Hermione's open hand. Stricken with fear, Elanor stumbled backwards against the wall as Hermione continued to move forward.

Hermione's mouth grew dry as she stared into the fearful, cool green eyes of Elanor for the briefest of moments before lifting her wand to stun her. As the woman dropped to the floor, Hermione noted curiously that she had put up no fight, had done nothing to protect herself. Elanor simply sat, huddled in the corner as the ambush took place around her. As Hermione surveyed the unconscious young woman laying on the ground at her feet, she had no way of knowing to the extent that their fates would become intrinsically bound, forever linked by a powerfully dark magic.

"Hermione now is the time," Remus called from the other side of the room. Hermione removed the vial from the pocket of her robe and quickly pricked her finger. A droplet of blood oozed out, of which Hermione quickly captured in the bottle. Trying not to let her conscience get the best of her, Hermione grabbed for Elanor's hand, taking her blood to add to the potion. Hermione questioned herself until the very last moment that she raised the potion to her lips. This was the right thing to do, wasn't it?

 _"Hermione, please, don't do this. We need you here, with us," Ron pleaded, absolutely terrified for what his friend was about to do._

 _"He's right, Hermione," Harry continued, "We cannot do this without you. What if something happens to-"_

 _"My decision is final," Hermione cut Harry off. She looked at the worried faces of both her dearest friends and sighed. She knew they just cared deeply for her. She began speaking, though less harshly this time._

 _"I love you both dearly, which is why I must do this. We've been working for months and have found nothing. This is our chance to get real answers. I have full faith in both of you, and I expect that you will have faith in me," Hermione said, reaching out to grasp Ron's hand. His cheeks flushed pink._

 _She would miss them both, and truthfully, she was terrified for herself. But her mind had been made up, she was going to do this. What Harry and Ron did not realize was that this was equally for herself as it was for them. Should Voldemort win, she would surely be killed. No more muggle-born witches and wizards would ever be given a chance to enter this wonderfully magical world she had grown to love. She could not bear the thought of future generations of children like herself being trapped in a world that they did not belong. The wizarding world had become her home, it was her life and she would be damned if she saw it taken away. Harry, seeing Hermione's turmoil, came up and embraced her in a long hug._

 _"We have all the faith in the world in you, Hermione. You're brilliant and if there is anyone who can do this, it's you."_

Hermione tipped her head back to allow the potion to slide past her lips. The green liquid tasted foul, like curdled milk and metal. Her eyes teared at the searing pain it left behind in her throat. Without meaning to, she dropped the now empty glass vial on the ground, and it shattered everywhere as her hands lifted to grasp her throat. She could no longer breathe due to the burning pain overtaking her body.

"Hermione!" Arthur cried out as he ran to her side.

"Don't touch her!" Remus yelled from across the room just as Arthur was bending over to assist her. "Hermione, you must perform the spell quickly!"

Arthur pushed Hermione's wand towards her hand. Hermione lightly grasped it, still weak with pain. She did not know how she was going to have the ability to get the words out of her mouth, but she knew she had no other choice. Without the spell being cast, the potion would continue to choke her to death. Hermione used her elbows to push her body along the ground closer to Elanor. Grabbing Elanor's hand, Hermione began to recite the spell. Her voice rasped out, and the words erupted from her chest in breathless bursts, feeling like sandpaper scraping her tongue. After the last word escaped her chest, time seemed to freeze.

The burning in Hermione's chest instantaneously ceased giving way to an odd pulling sensation shooting down her spine. The room darkened around everyone, and Hermione lost focus of the outside world. Her body felt dizzy, like it was spinning at an impossible speed. She held onto Elanor's hand like her life depended on it, anchoring herself to the woman she would one day need to kill. Suddenly, her body erupted in a pain she had never before experienced. Her bones felt as though they had caught fire, burning her skin from the inside out. The sound that ripped from her lungs as she felt her body crack and break was unnatural.

Her skin began bubbling furiously, like a cauldron of boiling water. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, feeling nauseous at the sight of her changing form. _Please let this pain end,_ Hermione thought over and over, for what felt like an eternity.

And then all at once, the pain subsided.

She lay on the ground, breathing furiously. Through her unfocused vision, she could vaguely make out the unconscious body of Elanor lying across from her. _Had it worked?_ It was then that Hermione noticed the jet black hair falling in front of her eyes and gasped. Her veins were pulsing with a newfound power that was electrifying in ways she had never felt before, tingling beneath her fingertips. The power that she now possessed was invigorating to her every sense.

And as Hermione lay still trying to process what she had just done, a sinking feeling crashed down upon her. The Gryffindor princess, the brightest witch of her age had played with the darkest of forces and won, but only for now. Because in fact, though she had succeeded in this battle, Hermione knew she was now locked in a deadly game with nature that she was sure to lose.

 **Author's Note:** And there you have it, folks. Nothing like a bit of identity theft to start a story. I have about half of this story already written. Expect updates about once every two weeks. I'd love to hear your thoughts- critiques are always welcome (and often greatly appreciated). Hope you enjoyed! :) - AMJ


	2. Chapter 2

**Behind Enemy Gates**  
 _Chapter 2_

* * *

If she had the luxury to do so, Hermione would have stayed on the ground in shock for hours, simply examining the long, slender fingers that were not her own, through jet black hair that had not grown naturally from her scalp. And when the shock finally faded away, Hermione would have made the decision to leave behind this new body in favor of her own, without, of course, needing to end the life of another.

But she did not have that luxury. If she wanted to live, there was little another choice but to fight the evil that threatened to take over the wizarding world. Hermione quickly rose to stand, but her legs felt unsteady as a young fowl's and Arthur gripped her arm to help stabilize her. Everyone in the room was absolutely silent with awe.

"Well?" She hesitantly questioned to no one in particular, uncomfortable with the curious stares. To say she felt self-conscious about her transformation was an understatement. Tonks was the first to shake off her disbelief.

"Welcome to the world of stealing identities," she incredulously responded. During Hermione's transformation, Tonks had gone through one of her own. Though Tonks was roughly the same height, her hair was nearly black, looking as sleek as obsidian hanging well past her shoulders. Her new body, while slender, managed to hold enviable hourglass curves. There was no trace of the Tonks Hermione knew in front of her. Handing Hermione the robes she was to wear, Tonks walked toward the fireplace. Hermione obliged by sliding the expensive garment over her shoulders, but she paused before walking forward.

Still in shock and reeling from the pain she had just experienced, Hermione simply kept examining her delicate hands. They did not seem capable of handling the power pulsing through her veins, nor to guide her through this mission. Physically her line of sight felt shorter. Her body was certainly still petite but held weight in different areas. The general shape of her figure had transformed from lithe to svelte. Like Tonks, her hair hung well past her shoulders in a sleek black curtain.

Despite the obvious changes her body had just undergone, Hermione did not feel any mentally different. The mind she was revered for was still intact, and Hermione felt not unlike she had before. It was this part of herself, the part that had not failed her yet, that Hermione would need to rely on most. Looking up, Hermione surveyed the others who had moved on from their stunned silence to set up the next phase of their mission.

Clearing his throat, Remus stated, "You should be leaving soon. You remember what we planned?" He questioned, though in his gut he knew there was no reason to doubt them. Both women were highly able in skill as well as mental fortitude. Still, it was well understood that they would face unimaginable dangers. Living under the Dark Lord's reign, having to accept his will in the name of espionage, would be treacherous. Neither Hermione nor Tonks was quite ready to say their farewells yet, but there was no choice. It was far too late to abandon the mission now.

 _Best not to think about it,_ Hermione concluded. Her body still felt numb as she took a final glance toward Elanor's limp form on the ground. Hermione could still see the light movement of her chest rising and falling, and she felt slightly calmed. As long as Elanor kept breathing, Hermione knew she would be safe in her transformed body. When Hermione finally walked across the study to the fireplace, she gasped at the sight.

The Pemberton matriarch lay in front of the fireplace in a pool of deep burgundy blood, a large slash cutting through her chest. Hermione placed a hand over her mouth as she studied the woman. The fresh scent of blood permeated her nostrils as she walked closer to the stone mantle. Hermione could see what she thought to be a bone protruding from the cavity in her opened chest. Clearly, Madam Victoria Pemberton was dead. Again, an ill feeling arose in her stomach and Hermione swallowed the bile that threatened to escape her throat. Though the sight was gruesome, Hermione knew this was likely to be only a taste of what she was to see in her new life. In response to this realization, her face hardened a touch, trying to find the inner courage that made her a Gryffindor. Beside Madam Victoria, Hermione noticed a small piece of paper sticking out from her hand. The paper was stained slightly red around the edges.

"Remus, what is that Madam Victoria is holding? " Following Hermione's gaze, Remus turned to the dead body near his feet and bent over to retrieve the paper. It was a small, sealed envelope.

"It's addressed to Voldemort," He inspected the parcel in his hands. " It's charmed," He realized as he attempted to unseal the letter."We cannot open it. Bring it with you and deliver it to him."

"But what if it contains information about the Order?" Tonks protested, worried for the safety of her friends.

"It would be suspicious should you not bring it, if he is expecting it," Arthur Weasley chimed in. Remus nodded beside him.

"There is no more time to debate. There are only a few moments left. Ready?" Arthur asked. Hermione and Tonks both nodded, knowing they had no other choice. Their fate was intertwined with that of the Order's survival, and failure of this mission would hold severe consequences for everyone they held dearest. Hermione felt too ill to speak. Her stomach was twisted with a dreadful unease.

As not to look suspicious, the pair needed to show signs of struggle from the staged invasion. Hermione was to be rendered unconscious, and Tonks agreed to be hit by a few charms.

"Please Remus," Tonks pleaded. "It will all be okay," She said as she closed her eyes. As Remus fired flashes of blue and red lights at Tonks, bruising her skin, Hermione noted how pained he looked, as though each charm was radiating in his own chest. She could see his ache at seeing the woman he loved hurt. But Tonks had insisted it be him, no doubt because of her trust in the man.

With only moments to spare, and without warning, Tonks sent a stunning charm directly towards Hermione's chest, and she fell ungracefully to the ground. Her fate now rested entirely with Tonks and the Death Eaters on the other side of the floo. Should Voldemort not believe them, or should something be found at the Pemberton Manor to indicate their involvement in the death of Victoria Pemberton, they would never live to see their futures.

* * *

A gentle touch tracing down her arm was the first sensation Hermione experienced upon being awoken. She opened her eyes, but through her hazy, unfocused vision it was difficult for her to understand her current situation. There was an obvious commotion taking place around her. Bodies cloaked in black were appearing from every direction and their deep voices radiated off the cold marble floors, barking orders amidst the chaos.

Through it, all Hermione could only concentrate on the soft, prodding thumb pad rubbing across her inner wrist. She turned her head to find the source of the touch. As she did so, she felt a warm, wet droplet roll down her forehead and along her cheek.

"Elanor!" Hermione heard a familiar voice call from just beside her. Quickly trying to orient herself, Hermione noticed that Tonks was kneeling to the right of her body. Careful to use the right name, Hermione tried to speak.

"Adria, what..." Hermione attempted to sit up, and a hand guided her back. She suddenly stiffened, discerning all at once that the hand that was on the small of her back, and the thumb caressing her wrist did not belong to Tonks. Quickly, she recoiled from the alien hands, turning rapidly to meet a pair of cold, steely eyes.

Hermione's chest tightened, and her body became rigid. The eyes, devoid of emotion despite the gentle touch of his fingers, belonged to none other than the boy who had tormented her since her arrival into the wizarding world. They belonged to the boy who had a hand in Dumbledore's death. They belonged to the boy who would find cathartic pleasure in her death, should he ever find out her true identity.

The Malfoy heir was kneeling beside her body, touching her skin. It took every fiber of her being to not throw up as he guided her to her feet. She quickly pulled her hand out of his to straighten her robes. Tonks shot her a sharp stare as if to say, _Hermione, remember who you are supposed to be._ Hermione read the message loud and clear, but she could not find it in herself to meet those cold eyes again or even utter a simple 'thank you'. Tonks, noticing Hermione having trouble with her situation, came up with a quick excuse for her odd behavior.

"You'll have to excuse her. I think she is in a bit of shock," Tonks whispered to Draco. The sorrow in her voice sounded so genuine, and Hermione wondered for a moment how Tonks had become so adept at lying.

Draco, paying little attention to Tonks, pressed his wand against Hermione's cheek. Hermione froze. His silver eyes were devoid of any emotion, resting glossy and soulless upon his aristocratic features. From in her chest, Hermione's heart began to race to the tempo of her thoughts. _Did he know about them? Had her rudeness given them away?_

However, to her shock, he muttered a simple spell under his breath and the warm liquid that had been dripping down her cheek seized. As Draco pulled the wand back from her cheek, it was only then that Hermione realized what it was that had been trickling down her face. Blood. Her seemingly filthy, muddy blood was now smeared across the tip of Draco's wand, and he was inspecting it thoroughly, lost in momentary thought.

"Pureblood being spilled...the Dark Lord will not be pleased to hear this," Draco muttered. Had she not been in such a position of danger, Hermione would have laughed at Draco calling her blood 'pure'.

A flurry of footsteps bounced off the marble floors, and from around the corner emerged three more cloaked figures. The rest of the movement in the room abruptly stopped. Tonks inhaled ever so slightly from next to Hermione. This part of their mission was to be the most unpredictable. They would have to convince the Dark Lord that they were no more than his most humble servants, that the ambush had taken place around them and they barely escaped with their lives.

One of the cloaked figures lifted their hood, slowly revealing the face beneath. The deeply veiled eyes and gaunt face of Bellatrix Lestrange emerged. Her tangled hair framed her sharp face, emphasizing her sadistic, twisted features.

"Well?" Her rage-filled voice shrilled at the Death Eaters before her. No one dared speak. Draco glanced condescendingly around the room before meeting his Aunt's eyes.

"Someone knew of our plans. Madam Pemberton is dead. Crabbe, Goyle and my father were first to enter the Pemberton Manor to search for anyone, but the portkey is closed now. We will have to establish another," Draco coolly stated. Ever analytical, Hermione carefully considered his self-assuredness and saw how others revered him. As he was speaking, no one dared look away from his face. His presence was commanding in a more mature way than when they were at Hogwarts; There, it was his father's name that struck true fear in others. Now, it seemed Draco himself was in command of that trepidation.

"In the meantime," Draco continued, turning to face the women he thought to be Adria and Elanor Pemberton. Bellatrix raised her eyebrow at the sight of the two women, evaluating every detail of their appearance.

Tonks took a small step forward towards Bellatrix, "If I may, my grandmother very much wanted this letter to reach the Dark Lord. It is of the utmost urgency." Though her tone was soft, there was nothing timid about the delivery. Hermione admired her strength, as Tonks confidently handed the deranged woman the letter, looking every bit as aristocratic and commanding.

Bellatrix paused, surveying the Pemberton grandchildren with her maddening gaze." The Dark Lord has been waiting eagerly for this," she smirked arrogantly. "At least this wasn't a total failure. Have Minly show the guests to their rooms," the shrill voice of Bellatrix commanded. Draco was shocked at her cavalier attitude toward the unknown women.

"And the Dark Lord," Draco questioned before his Aunt turned her back. "Won't he want to meet our guests?"

He took a few steps closer to his aunt, and under his breath whispered, "How do we know they are who they claim to be?" Draco knew that the wards on the Manor would have never allowed someone under the influence of polyjuice potion to enter, but due to the circumstances surrounding their arrival, he was highly suspicious of the women. Bellatrix rolled her eyes and lifted her wand at the women before her.

" _Revelo_!" She shouted. Hermione stayed as still as possible, and to her relief, nothing happened. Both her and Tonks were still in their transformed state.

"This," Bellatrix started, holding up the bloodied envelope close to Draco's face, "should also satisfy the Dark Lord." Her lips curled into a sinister grin, madness radiating from her gaze. "The Order would never deliver such a gift to him." Hermione's heart sank, and she fought to keep her face impassive. Any relief she had felt moments ago quickly faded.

"Not knowingly," Draco contested, but he sighed, understanding this was not a battle he would win. "Minly," He called out, and a house elf appeared before them. "Show our guests to their rooms." Without a glance backward, his tall, lean figure walked from the room behind his aunt, curious as to what was enclosed in the envelope. There had been rumors for months now of a weapon that the Dark Lord was searching for. If this letter truly enclosed the whereabouts of such a secret, the war may be over soon, a prospect Draco was severely impatient for. He wanted nothing more than to have his house and life back.

"Is he here?" Draco questioned his aunt in a low whisper.

"Yes, he arrived shortly before Madam Pemberton was set to get here," Bellatrix responded in her usual arrogant tone.

As his aunt approached the main hall, they slowed their steps. Bellatrix quickly straightened her robes and hair, a habit, Draco noted, that she only did when she was going to see her master. Death Eaters had long been curious as to the relationship between the Dark Lord and his most loyal follower, but Draco was the exception. Nothing made him iller than to think about the sadistic duo and their sexual desires. The maliciousness that flowed through his aunt's veins was her life source, attached to her very soul. Never did he think there would be a person who was as passionate about carnage as the Dark Lord, but, when his aunt had taken up residence with them, he learned that she could very nearly match his intensity. Honestly, there was not much he liked about his aunt, nor did he even respect her, but, she had been instrumental in keeping him alive and in the good graces of the Dark Lord. And for that, he would never complain.

Bellatrix tapped her wand against the ornate wooden door to the main dining room, making their presence known before stepping foot inside. They approached the head of the table, where the Dark Lord was seething.

"There is another traitor amongst us," Although Voldemort's tone was low, there was an eternal brewing storm beneath it, pulsing with malice and poison. Ever curious, though never divulging such, Draco kept his face locked forward, his eyes never wavering from Bellatrix and the Dark Lord. "Severus likely passed the plans along to the Order, but, he knew no exact details of it. This means someone informed him as to what was happening," Voldemort sneered.

"My Lord, I will kill whoever it was," Bellatrix violently spat, rage overtaking her.

Draco thought for a moment. There was only a small group of people who knew of the plans, himself included, and even fewer who had details regarding the Pemberton estate. "My Lord," Draco began, "whoever knew of the plans also had to have knowledge of how to access the Pemberton estate. Do you think Madam Pemberton turned on us?"

"Never," Lord Voldemort denied. "It was someone in this Manor, but who I cannot guess. I will need you both to begin interrogations soon. Find who did this," he hissed, his deathly pale skin pulling back into a scowl.

"My Lord, there is some good news," Bellatrix kneeled beside Voldemort, "the letter has arrived." Voldemort's red eyes flashed for a moment, and his sneering face relaxed slightly, giving way to a grotesque grin. He opened the envelope and read the small letter enclosed.

"It seems, that even though Madam Pemberton could not join us tonight, their arrival proved most fruitful," Voldemort whispered, gazing at the letter in a way that Draco would almost characterize as infatuation. "This just leaves the fate of our most honored guests..." He brought a long finger up to his lips, before staring at Draco intently.

"My Lord," Draco bowed his head. Knowing that Voldemort was deep in thought, Draco chose to say no more, allowing the powerful man to retreat into his consciousness.

"There is but one thing that will help me against Potter," Voldemort's voice, though barely above a murmur, carried smoothly throughout the room. " Draco, do you know what it is that I desire?" Voldemort's voice was deliberate, and he slowly enunciated each word that passes his thin lips.

"What is it you desire, My Lord?" Draco calmly asked, knowing the Dark Lord was not looking for him to actually guess the answer.

"I desire to be the most powerful wizard, to rid the earth of dismal filth, to continue the path of Grindelwald, and succeed where he pathetically failed. To achieve this, I need a wand more powerful than all else. Have you heard of the Elder Wand, Draco?"

"Only in fairy tales, My Lord," Draco obediently responded. This line of questioning intrigued him, though, more so than his previous conversations with the Dark Lord. His heart was much calmer in his chest than it used to be when he stood before the powerful wizard. Learning how to manage his fear was an especially useful skill he had developed over the last year. From off to Voldemort's right, Draco noted that his Aunt was wistfully lost in Voldemort's words.

"These women are the lost relatives of Antioch Peverell, the wizard who first came in possession of the Elder Wand. There are stories that have been kept sacred by the decedents of Antioch Peverell for generations, including the location and specifics regarding the wand. Though their line has been notoriously reclusive, they have been devoted to ridding the world of muggles, which is where they prove most precious," Voldemort paused momentarily in thought. " Madam Pemberton has worked with me over the last few months to trace the wand through its previous owners, and above all confirming her loyalty to me. And now," Voldemort held up the letter between his long, skeletal fingers, "she has given me an answer. Mykew Gregorovitch, the wand maker, had the Elder Wand in his possession." Still kneeling beside Voldemort, Bellatrix let out a sharp cackle.

"Bellatrix, you are to find and bring Gregorovitch to me. Do this with haste," Voldemort demanded.

"Of course my Lord," She eagerly nodded.

"And Draco," Voldemort pondered for a moment before speaking, "Draco, I do not know what to make of our new guests, whether they are as trustworthy as their grandmother. You are to watch them closely. Do whatever you must, but I need more answers about the wand, Draco. They are to live here and to continue the work of their grandmother. I need their family secrets, to know if there is anything else hiding. Watch their every move. You will be greatly honored for this service Draco."

"I would be privileged to do so, My Lord," Draco bowed his head slightly, as a show of respect for his superior. Truthfully, Draco was appreciative of this mission. It was much less dangerous than others he had been sent on. His usefulness had earned him certain comforts, and, though he did not necessarily ascribe to the level of brutality that Voldemort waged, he was not about to protest about his advantaged status.

Without a moment more of hesitation, Draco set off to begin his mission.

* * *

Draco ran to catch up with the women on their tour of the Manor. As he rounded the corner of the second floor on the western wing, he found the women dutifully following Minly, the manor's house elf.

"Minly," Draco called from behind them, not showing any signs of being out of breath despite having run to catch up with them. "Go attend to other business. I will show our guests to their room." Tonks gave Hermione a short, nervous glance before turning around. Hermione wondered if it was a talent inherent to children of pure bloodlines to be able to mask their emotions so effortlessly. She struggled to match their level of poise and control. What was Malfoy doing taking them to their room? Wasn't that the job of a servant? Hermione was perplexed but tried her hardest not to show it.

"Mr. Malfoy, that would be most excellent. We've had a trying night, as you know," Tonks elegantly spoke as she waited for Draco to join them. No smile reached her eyes as she said her words. If Hermione had not known any better, she would have believed Tonks was really mourning the loss of their grandmother.

When Draco had caught up, he curtly nodded at them both to follow him down the long hallway. Hermione was certain she would never be able to find her way back to the room. The Manor was entirely too large. Corridors seemed to stretch out in every direction. There was a darkness to the Manor that was unsettling and cold; the decorations were almost medieval, dark and brooding. The shadows came to life around every corner. Hermione could not help but analyze every detail of her surroundings, finding it difficult to keep pace with the other two. The halls, though lit by torches, felt cold and devoid of human presence. Compared to the Burrow, this place held no life yet had an underlying dark spirit. Its magic was held not in the unusual, but in the ancient. Dark artifacts of all sorts were showcased everywhere behind thick glass cabinets. Shadows lurked around corners, and paintings sneered their aristocratic noses down upon them with disdain. Hermione shuddered even thinking about what other secrets were hidden at the Malfoy Manor.

After a few more minutes of walking down winding halls in silence, Draco stopped abruptly before a baroque, green wooden door, and pushed it open. He held the door and motioned for the women to enter. As Hermione passed through the door, her shoulder brushed up against Draco's chest and she shuddered at the sudden heat. He casually glanced down at her, acknowledging the touch, and her shiver, and smirked.

"This is your suite. There is a common area, and three bedrooms, each with its own private bath."

Hermione could only stare wide-eyed at its impressive size. The room was painted in dark shades of green and gray. The dark, hardwood floors did not creek as they walked over them, despite looking quite old. The furniture was ornate, made of carved wood and the finest fabrics. Off to the far side of the common room were three doors, which Hermione presumed were their rooms. While she was seldom impressed by showcases of fortune and wealth, needing very little herself, Hermione was overwhelmed by the sheer fortune the Malfoy's must possess to have such a large estate.

"I'm sure you are ready for sleep. I assure you, your stay will be enjoyable," Draco said. "And if it is not to your liking, we can certainly arrange for something more comfortable." Having practiced for years at Hogwarts, he knew when and how to turn on his inner charm; his voice was only slightly arrogant, creating an air of aristocracy and intrigue. "If there is anything else you need, you may ask Minly. She is obliged to see that all of your requests are met." Hermione considered his words. Her odd, silent behavior would not go unnoticed from his analytical eyes should she not say anything before he left. Gathering all her courage, Hermione lifted her head to speak.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. What of our things? We did not have time to grab them, I'm afraid." Hermione spoke to Draco directly, meeting his piercing eyes. She had very nearly forgotten her change as they were walking through the Manor, but now, Hermione could hear that Elanor's voice was slightly lower than her own, though, still melodic and feminine. The sultry tone sounded foreign coming from her lips.

"We will be visiting your estate sometime this week after we are sure no one else is watching. I will ensure your belongings are brought here. In the meantime, you will find an assortment of clothes and dress robes at your disposal in your closets. Anything for the family of Madam Pemberton," Draco smiled before pausing to think for a moment. " I am very sorry for your loss. Your grandmother has been an asset to the Dark Lord's mission for some time now."

"Thank you for your kind words," Tonks replied temperately. Draco watched as Hermione gazed her eyes towards the floor again.

"Decidedly, the Dark Lord would very much appreciate if you were to continue her research," Draco's voice was silky, and effortlessly polished even to his own ears. "Breakfast will be served in the dining room tomorrow morning at nine o'clock sharp. We can discuss this more after you have rested. Sleep well, Adria and Elanor." Taking one last assessment of the women, he turned adroitly, closing their door quietly behind him.

Hermione had not known that her breathing had become so shallow, but when Draco left, she felt a large gasp of oxygen fill her lungs to capacity again. Tonks had a similar reaction. Before either of them spoke they set to work in verifying their suite was secure from any listening ears. Hermione began muttering charms under her breath, keeping her wand hidden up the sleeve of her cloak. The power that had surged within her earlier returned in full force, and the magic flowed effortlessly through her in a way that was new, but, unequivocally welcome.

"This should block out any potential listeners. I suggest we only speak when this ward is up, and resort to our journals to pass messages to each other if we must. The ward will also alert us if anyone is near," Hermione informed Tonks.

"Impressive," Tonks excitedly whispered. "They always told me you were incredible, it's a relief to have you here with me," Tonks praised her. Hermione couldn't help but smirk at the woman's genuine tone. Unlike in the presence of Draco, Tonks was now expressive and warm.

"I am the one who is relieved. I couldn't have done this alone. My nerves got the best of me today," Hermione whispered back. Deep in her soul, she still felt shaken at everything that had happened in the last day. There were many things that Hermione was good at, studying, researching, but she was not a good liar, making this mission seem more impossible than it already was. "We should alert the Order that we are safe. I'm sure Remus will want to hear that you are doing okay." Hermione pulled the small journal and a quill from the charmed pocket inside her robes.

"Why do you think Draco led us to our room?" Hermione pondered, as she opened the journal to write.

"Perhaps he has been asked to watch us. He seemed suspicious. We should keep a close eye on him," Tonks decided.

"I agree," Hermione replied, "I also noticed he is better respected than some of the others. He seems to be higher up in the Death Eaters ranks. That could be advantageous to us," Hermione concluded. If he was tasked with keeping a closer eye on them, it might give them the opportunity to gain his trust, and bleed him for information.

"Yes," Tonks nodded, watching as Hermione scrawled the first message onto the page.

 _ **"We have made it safely to the Malfoy Manor, and they have accepted our presence as well as the letter. The Death Eaters will be patrolling the Pemberton Manor within the next few days. Be careful. "**_

Hermione paused and watched the words sink slowly into the page, disappearing from sight. "What should I say about the letter?" She asked Tonks.

The space between Tonks' eyebrows creased slightly as she thought. "Just tell them that Madam Pemberton was researching something with the Dark Lord and we unknowingly gave them information about whatever they were working on. We will give them more information once we discover what was written in the letter."

Hermione quickly jotted down what Tonks was saying and watched as the words disappeared. The pair waited a few moments before a message appeared on the pages before them.

" _ **We are glad you are safe. Be careful, do not do anything too risky."**_

Hermione chuckled at what she assumed to be the words of Remus. Their whole existence was a risk at this moment. Tonks rolled her eyes. "That should be good for tonight."

Tonks inspected Hermione as she placed her journal and her quill back within the charmed pocket in her robes. She noted the weariness in Hermione's eyes. "Are you alright? I mean with all of this, the transformation and such?" Tonks asked. Hermione felt touched at her friend's concern and gave her a small, reassuring smile.

"I will be. My nerves were a bit rusty today, it's been a while since I've done anything more involved than researching. I'll be better tomorrow. As for the appearance, I haven't really had time to think about it honestly. I keep forgetting I look different, but then I'll notice my hands or a strand of black hair in my eyes and I'll remember." She admitted. Tonks considered her words before nodding.

"You'll get used to it I'm sure. Just remember that purebloods, particularly those of elite upbringing, do not typically show their emotions. It'll get easier as time goes on," Tonks advised. "We really should sleep."

"Right," Hermione concurred, letting a small yawn pass her lips. She was exhausted.

As she turned to enter her room, Tonks called out from behind her, "Goodnight... Elanor." Her nose scrunched up in distaste.

"What?" Hermione questioned.

"Elanor sounds so stiff. It's entirely too formal for me. I'm going to call you Ellie," Tonks proclaimed excitedly. Hermione chuckled, shaking her head. Even in the worst of situations, Tonks was able to lighten the tension. Honestly, she was exceedingly glad the woman was here with her. It provided her with the comfort she would need to get through this challenge.

"Ellie," Hermione tested out on her lips. "I agree. It's a much better name."

And with that, both women retired into their respective rooms. Hermione noticed the large, four-poster bed had black, silk sheets. The luxurious carpet felt soft under her toes as she removed her clothes to change for bed. As she walked over to the closet to retrieve the clothes Malfoy had spoken of, she saw a shiny flash from her right. Turning to inspect it, Hermione gasped, her delicate fingers covering her mouth.

There was a large mirror in the closet, and it was reflecting an image that she did not quite recognize. There was no stopping the crushing feeling that overtook her stomach as she stared unmoving at the image of her new self. This woman who she saw was not herself, nor was it natural. Her entire existence at this moment was a lie; a miserable, dark, deep secret that threatened to cause her mind to burst from folly. Somewhere in the world lay the real Elanor, held prisoner, unknowingly waiting to die. Somewhere in the world, her best friends were searching for pieces of the Voldemort's soul. Somewhere in the world, her obliviated parents whom she loved dearly, had no memory of her existence. Hermione's knees buckled under the weight that suddenly bore down upon her shoulders, drowning her under bleak thoughts. This was very much real, and now there was no way out. Her decision had been made, and it was time to follow through. A silent tear dripped down her face, and Hermione quickly wiped it away. When she looked up to stand once again, Hermione noticed yet another abnormality in the mirror.

Her eyes.

Hermione recognized them as the only piece of herself that had not changed during the ritual. Staring back from the other side of the mirror were Hermione's copper brown eyes holding more fear than she had ever seen in them. Shocked, Hermione moved her face closer to the mirror to analyze them further. While it was possible she and Elanor shared the same eye color, Hermione found it unlikely. Tonks had green eyes, and, both sisters certainly looked alike. No, these were eyes that had stared at her for almost two decades now.

While she should have been horrified to be carrying such an identifying feature of her former self, it was oddly calming. She surely felt more at ease knowing a part of her remained here physically, giving her something to hold on to. There was comfort in knowing that she was not entirely lost to her new form.

Not wanting to spend any more time in front of the mirror, Hermione stood and quickly found her nightwear. She then walked over to the oversized bed and threw herself under the silky sheets. The bed was plush and warm, and the silk felt soothing against her legs. Turning on her side, Hermione faced the glass door that led to her small balcony. There was nothing but oppressive darkness on the other side of the glass. She exhaled deeply and shut her eyes, urging herself to forget the previous weeks and finally find the sleep she so desperately needed.

* * *

Stepping off his broom onto his balcony, Draco wiped a small drip of sweat from his forehead. Tonight had been one of those nights that he needed to escape. He noticed he was having them more frequently now. The confines of the Manor were suffocating, and it had been weeks since he had been allowed to leave. The more unstable the Dark Lord became, the more unbearable Draco's life was becoming.

For this, he found there was no better cure than a long night ride to clear him of his racing thoughts. Tonight his mind oscillated from his Godfather, to his new mission, to the Elder Wand. After much deliberation, there was no longer any doubt to him now that his Godfather was truly a traitor. The stoic man had taught Draco so much, stepping up in all the ways his father had failed. But Draco had noticed his odd behavior in the days leading up to his death. He was more frantic in their private meetings, speaking more than usual, passing along knowledge that Draco did not quite understand. He walked over to the desk in his room and tapped his wand three times against the top drawer. When he opened the drawer, there were a few letters, and more importantly, a tiny glass bottle, the last item Severus had given him before his capture.

Draco gently inspected the vial in his hands, tipping it so the clear liquid inside swished from side to side. A single, dark hair was suspended in the liquid. _What was he hiding?_ Draco wondered. There was not enough liquid in the tiny vile for him to take any chances testing it without having any indication of what he was looking for. And, should the Dark Lord find out about this secret, Draco knew he would surely be killed. Draco's brain was stumped by this conundrum. The Pemberton matriarch being killed, an ambush on her granddaughters, the letter, the glass vile, somehow this was all connected, he just could not figure out _how._

For now, he hid the vial back in his desk.

Though he was exhausted after his long night ride, and the tiring events of the past day, Draco lay awake long after he finally settled in his bed, fighting against his ever overworked mind. There was something about the Pemberton women that intrigued him. The tantalizing allure that surrounded their family, the mystery that enveloped their past, it left Draco with a need to learn more.

Elanor was certainly the younger of the two and seemed timider. She was also, Draco decided, the more striking of the two, with her small features and bright copper eyes. Though she had only met his eyes a few moments throughout the entire evening, he was entrapped by them. In the moments when he did get a glimpse, they had been expressive, allowing him to read more than just fear. There was something mysterious and dangerous within them, lurking behind the wide-eyed innocent gaze, and Draco was drawn to the challenge they presented. He was going to stop at nothing to learn of her secrets. Besides, she would likely be easier to charm than her colder, more aloof sister.

The last decision Draco made before finally succumbing to sleep was to pay the young woman a visit before breakfast.

* * *

 **Author's Note: And so it begins! What does the morning have waiting for our spies? There will be much more action next chapter. I know these first chapters have been a little slow, but I am trying to set up the plot in a way that allows me to let the later chapters flow better. Let me know what you think. Critiques are very much welcome to help me get a sense of what is working and what isn't. Until next time- AMJ :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Behind Enemy Gates**  
 _Chapter 3_

 _ **A/N: Thank you to my lovely reviewers. I really love hearing your input! It truly means the world to me. This chapter has a lot more action between our favorite duo. Enjoy :) -AMJ**_

* * *

When Hermione opened her eyes to greet the morning, she was immediately aware that something was amiss. The room she had fallen asleep in the prior night had been painted in dark shades of gray, and yet, the room currently before her eyes was a stark white. The balcony door she had been facing was no longer there and was instead replaced by a large window, facing a stable. The world around Hermione was hazy and unfocused, as though she was viewing her surroundings in the Pensieve. The dreamlike quality to the reality materializing around her was peculiar. When Hermione attempted to sit up on the bed, she discovered she could not. The body her consciousness was suspended within instead rolled over, and let out a slight groan. The world went dark as her eyes closed for a moment. Hermione attempted to open the eyes, but again, she could not.

 _I must be dreaming_ , Hermione thought for a moment. It was the only logical explanation to her predicament. Oddly, however, she was dreaming about a place that she had never before seen, and even more peculiar was the fact that she was not in control of any aspect of the dream, even though she remained conscious.

Light suddenly trickled in through the eyes, and she felt the body move to sit up, gingerly stretching before stepping foot onto the wooden floor. Delicate hands appeared, rubbing tired eyes. The room suddenly became a blinding shade of white, and when Hermione could finally see again, she noticed she had been transported to another part of the house, the hazy quality still afflicting her vision. The body walked down a long hallway, and into a room that Hermione vividly recognized. It was the parlor from the Pemberton Manor, except, it was now illuminated by the sun trickling through the windows. Madam Pemberton was alive, sitting stoically at the desk, quill in hand.

As the body passed in front of a mirror, Hermione noted that the image it reflected was Elanor Pemberton, her vivid green eyes illuminated by the daylight. Hermione wanted to walk closer to the reflection, but Elanor did not halt in her trek toward her grandmother. Hermione felt her emotions change quickly. Alarmingly, apathy was the most prevalent amongst them, then annoyance.

 _Are these my emotions?_ For the first time since she had formed her bond with Elanor, Hermione did not feel like herself, but rather like an observer of Elanor's world. Trapped within the body, Hermione was an outsider being given a window through Elanor's eyes, engulfed by the woman's emotions.

 _I'm dreaming_ , Hermione finally concluded. _This can't be more, could it?_ Hermione questioned herself as she felt the body she was trapped within turn. It took a few moments for the scene to become clearer. Her gaze was limited to wherever Elanor looked, which frustrated Hermione greatly.

"What are you writing?" Elanor questioned, looking at the note Madam Pemberton was writing. Elanor's voice sounded distant, as though it were echoing underwater. Hermione strained to hear what was being said.

"This business is nothing a lady should concern herself with, Elanor. Mind your manners," Madam Pemberton quipped condescendingly. While her grandmother was not paying attention, Elanor still gave the letter the briefest of glances. Hermione could see a symbol drawn at the top of the letter; a simple circle within a triangle, both of which were intersected by a straight line. The symbol looked oddly familiar, though, Hermione could not quite remember from where. Before Elanor looked away from the letter, Hermione briefly made out a name neatly scrawled under the symbol, _**Gregorovitch**_. Unfortunately, Elanor did not look at the contents of the letter any further, and Hermione was no longer able to inspect it due to the constraints of her vision.

"We leave in a week's time to join the Dark Lord at the Malfoy Manor, Elanor," Madame Pemberton spoke in her severe tone- one that Hermione was realizing was permanent. "Remember what we are to get close to the Malfoy Heir, do you understand me? This is our chance to keep our bloodline healthy and strong."

"Of course I understand that Grandmother," Her hand reached out to grip Madam Pemberton's thin, velvety aged hands, "I know I was… rather crass yesterday, but I will do nothing but honor this family. And myself," Elanor coyly added. As the words passed through Elanor's lips, Hermione felt almost as though she were the one speaking them. Two beings in one body. It was certainly an odd sensation, one that was making Hermione feel dizzy at the implications it brought. Contrary to Elanor's tone, Hermione felt an emotional rush of dishonesty and fear as Elanor said the words. Was this simply a dream? An effect of the spell? There was no shaking the sinking feeling that this was reflective of reality, even through the surreal quality of the dream. Hermione was currently an intruder in another's life, living out her most intimate memories.

The dream world around her suddenly swirled, and a bright flash of light momentarily blinded Hermione's vision again. When the world reset itself, she was inches from the face of another man. His scent was musky, and she sensed as his strong hands brought warmth to Elanor's lower back. A strong feeling of passion overtook her emotions, the strongest emotions Hermione had felt thus far, and Elanor's hands gently reached up to stroke his face.

"When will you be back," The man's voice resonated deep within Elanor's core.

"I'm not sure," she said in a breathless whisper. Hermione could see Elanor's worried face reflected in the mystery man's dark eyes. "My Grandmother...she mentioned the Malfoy heir again, I don't know how I can avoid this," Elanor whispered fearfully.

"You always find a way, my love. And when you do, I'll be waiting," he whispered back, resting his forehead against hers.

"I promise I'll return to you," Elanor responded before leaning in to kiss the handsome man. The world through Elanor's eyes once again became blurry, fading away.

Hermione abruptly sat up in her bed, covered in a cold sweat. The room around her was once again painted in a shade of dark gray; Sheets of dark silk pooled around her waist. She was at the Malfoy Manor.

Hermione quickly flipped the sheets back and rushed into the common area. Tonks, a notoriously early riser, was completely ready for the day, waiting on the couch. Upon seeing the look on Hermione's face, her eyebrows creased. and she stood to greet Hermione.

"What's wrong?" Tonks asked worriedly. Hermione paced in front of the couch for a few moments, gathering her thoughts before speaking.

"I had a dream last night. Except, and I know this sounds completely mad," Words hurriedly spilled from Hermione's mouth, "I don't think it was just a dream. I think I saw a memory… One of Elanor's memories."

Tonks took Hermione's hand and guided her to sit on the couch. "You're making me dizzy. Slow down. What did you see?"

Hermione recounted each detail she remembered to Tonks. The letter. The symbol and name, Madam Pemberton's attitude toward her granddaughter, and the plan to have Elanor marry Draco. When Hermione reached the end of the dream, with Elanor's mystery stable boy, she stopped. It felt too personal, as though she was invading the privacy of a close friend. While she knew she owed Elanor nothing, there was a part of her that felt a loyalty to the woman's whose body she was using.

"How can you be sure this was real?"

"I can't. But it _felt_ so real. Perhaps the link between us is stronger than we anticipated," Hermione whispered, suddenly afraid at what the implications of this dark magic were. There was very little information on the dark magic she was currently wielding, and in none of her research had she come upon information of seeing the other's past. "Should we let the Order know?" Hermione asked.

"Not yet," Tonks responded cautiously. "Not until we are certain as to what these dreams mean."

Hermione reached for her wand and drew the symbol she had seen in the air. "Tonks, this symbol, have you seen it before?"

"It's the symbol of the Deathly Hallows..." Hermione's mind jumped into overdrive as Tonks spoke. _Gregorivitch the famed wandmaker, this symbol_...A light clicked within Hermione's mind. She was beginning to understand.

"Tonks, the Pemberton's are a part of the Peverell line. Antioch Peverell was the owner of the Elder Wand, one of the Deathly Hallows. You don't think… I thought that was just a children's story."

"Apparently the Dark Lord is exploring the possibility that it is not," Tonks whispered, a tinge of fear marring her tone. "He must be searching for the Elder Wand. It all makes sense," She groaned.

The ward around their room began to hum, and both women stood abruptly from the couch.

"Someone is outside," Tonks said, before a knock rapt on their door. "Go get dressed for breakfast, I'll deal with this." She whispered to Hermione, straightening her robes. Just as Hermione managed to retreat into her private room, she heard the front door open.

"Mrs. Malfoy, Draco, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Hermione heard Tonk's muffled voice through the door of her room.

"We are here to escort you to breakfast. It's easy to get lost here," Narcissa explained, though, Hermione could not help but feel as though the Malfoy's were really there to make sure they did not wander.

"I'm afraid my sister is not ready yet," Tonks said, feigning disdain.

"That's fine," Narcissa stated. "I will take you to the dining room, and Draco and Elanor can meet us there shortly." Her tone left no room for negotiation.

"How kind of you," Tonks coolly responded, ever the perfect actress of elite apathy. Though Hermione could not see her, she heard the click of the door, and the soft rustling of the couch as Draco sat upon it. Though her heart was racing in her chest, Hermione took a deep breath and continued to get ready. The robes provided by the Malfoy's were made of a rich, dark green satin. Hermione had to admit, against Elanor's olive skin and dark hair, the color certainly complimented her. Her copper eyes stood out proudly on her face, the only warmth on her otherwise cool features. Not wanting to leave Tonks alone for too long with Narcissa, Hermione hurriedly combed through her long hair. Vowing to herself that she would be better at performing her duty today, Hermione quickly emerged from the room, making sure to keep a cool facade plastered over her features.

Draco stood from the couch to greet her, and though he was normally quite impassive, his smile was stunningly, and surprisingly, warm. Hermione's face wavered for a moment, as the heated reflection of his eyes radiated in her most intimate parts.

"Good morning. How did you sleep?" Draco asked, casually starting small talk. The woman before him looked no less timid than she had the night before. While in most people, Draco would have considered this a sign of weakness, there was something behind Elanor's expressive eyes that gave him pause in drawing that conclusion.

"Very well, thank you," Hermione whispered from next to him, offering nothing else to the conversation. Her dream was still playing vividly in her mind. Madam Pemberton had informed Elanor that Malfoy was to be her suitor. _Does Narcissa know of this as well? Does Draco?_ Standing here next to him, she could not tell if he was aware of that plan. Pureblood families normally discussed arranged marriages, but Hermione was uncertain as to whether or not the reclusive Pemberton family had shared these intimate plans with the Malfoy's.

A small yawn escaped Hermione's mouth, and she quickly raised her delicate hand to cover her lips. Draco looked down at the woman beside him and smirked, one side of his mouth pulling up handsomely.

"I'm not a morning person either," Draco said, assessing the woman's tired looking eyes, and noting that she likely had not slept well, despite her words. "You'll learn very quickly to savor the days that you are allowed to sleep in late. My mother enjoys morning breakfast."

Hermione, thinking better of starting more conversation with Malfoy than need be, simply nodded once. Standing so close to Malfoy, Hermione was able to notice small details about him. His slim nose and aristocratic features were all perfectly formed, like an old roman statue. From afar, his eyes always shone the color of molten steel, but, from this angle, she could see specks of blue wound around the gray threads in his eyes. The muscles in his arms were slim, though clearly present under his rolled-up sleeves. He was certainly far less scrawny than the boy she had seen before at Hogwarts.

Draco took long strides beside her, and Hermione was nearly in a sprint to keep pace. Walking down the hall, Hermione realized she still felt uncomfortable in this new body and was not sure yet how to act. Staying silent seemed to be the easiest option she had, and so, the walk to breakfast was largely made in silence, though, not because Draco was making no effort. Every few paces he would point out an artifact, or give a brief description of a portrait on the wall, to which Hermione would simply nod. One thing had not changed, and that was Draco's arrogance. The pride in his voice at the spectacular, frivolous, museum that was the Malfoy Manor was easily discernable in his tone. Defiantly, Hermione chose to act as though she cared less what he was saying, though, in truth, she was keenly observing each dark artifact to see if any would be of interest to the Order.

At one point, Draco's hand brushed her delicate fingers as he reached to stop her from moving forward. A powerful shock awoke the power that lay dormant in her veins, and Hermione was filled with a heat that reached every inch of her body. Hermione did not glance up to see if Draco had felt the same shockwave that she had experienced, and she continued to walk forward, done viewing artifacts for the day.

By the time they reached the dining room, the tension between them was palpable. Draco's frustration was noticeable but was not necessarily directed at her. Draco, for all his charms and upbringing, was finding it rather impossible to get the woman to open up. He noted how stiff and uncomfortable she was during their walk, how utterly unimpressed she was with her surroundings, with his charms and wealth. His sharp jaw set in a hard line as he walked over to her chair and pulled it out slightly from the table for her to sit. As Hermione sat, their eyes once again met, and her throat constricted at the sight of his penetrating gaze; Draco was trying to look within her, to see her very soul and all its secrets therein. Quickly, Hermione broke her gaze away, to the dissatisfaction of Draco, who was yearning to learn more.

Narcissa and Tonks were watching the pair with keen interest, both for different reasons. Narcissa sighed when she saw the tension in Draco's jaw, and the hard set of his eyes. Clearly, whatever had transpired was not as Draco had intended. She knew this face; one of petulance, that he reserved for the rare moments when he did not get his way.

Tonks, for her part, noted how uncomfortable Hermione seemed. Stiff, and unrelaxed. She could not tell if it was the new body, or if Hermione was attempting to act like a pure blooded witch. Tonks nearly rolled her eyes at the travesty in front of her. It was just another conversation she would need to have with Hermione later.

Narcissa daintily cleared her throat to ease the tension in the room, just as a house elf appeared to serve them their meal. The affair was largely held in silence. The opulence of the food made Hermione feel ill. She was eating a meal provided by a family that wished to wipe out muggle born witches and wizards like herself. She was sitting in a house where the Dark Lord had taken up residence, with people who would torture her given the opportunity. Hermione could barely sip her tea.

"Is it not to your liking?" Narcissa, ever the gracious host, asked as she observed Hermione's barely touched meal.

"I am just not used to eating so much in the morning," Hermione answered honestly.

Narcissa nodded and continued on with her own meal. Had Mrs. Weasley been here, she would have forced Hermione to eat, pressuring her like only a doting mother could. Her heart constricted at the thought of the Weasley's. She missed them terribly already. As the food disappeared off the other's plates, Hermione noticed Draco intently staring at the sisters with suspicion, as though to figure out their purpose here as well. It was clear to her that there was no trust between them. _What else is new…_ Hermione thought.

"Adria, Elanor," Draco began speaking in a business-like manner. "It is truly an honor to host you here, two witches from one of the oldest bloodlines. The Dark Lord extends his protection, should you be willing to continue to help our cause." Lurking behind his words was a thinly veiled threat, entangled amongst the power that Draco exuded. Narcissa looked forward coolly, not meeting either Elanor nor Adria in the eyes. Hermione wondered if she felt embarrassed, if throwing guests out went against her sensibilities.

Tonks looked down solemnly, "Unfortunately we may not be as much help as the Dark Lord would like."

Before Tonks could speak again, Hermione cut in to add, "Our grandmother did not like to include us in discussions of her work. She did not think it would be suitable," Hermione found she was able to lie more easily after seeing a glimpse at Elanor's life.

"But we are certainly willing to try," Hermione continued. From under the table. she felt a sharp kick from Tonks. Tonks did not understand Hermione's willingness to help, preferring to keep a lower profile. "If we could have access to our grandmother's books, we could begin where she left off in her research. The Pemberton library is very extensive."

Draco raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, having never heard Elanor speak so much. He carefully considered her request and the decision before him. There was something about this that did not sit well in his gut. If these women were who they claimed to be, why had Madam Pemberton kept this knowledge from them? And, if for whatever unlikely reason they were not who they appeared, it risked giving imperative information away. Nonetheless, the Dark Lord was demanding information about the Elder Wand, and any insight the women could offer would be valuable. Given the impatience of the Dark Lord, it was a risk that Draco was in no position to refuse.

"Very well, I will have some books brought to you in a few days. In the meantime, I'm sure you will find the Malfoy library suitable. I can show you there after breakfast," Draco said.

Hermione fought the urge to cringe. _Damn clever bastard_ , Hermione thought to herself. If she had access to Madam Pemberton's books, she would have a better understanding of what was being researched. Without having those books first, Hermione had little idea of where to even start, a trap that Draco had cunningly set to gauge their existing family expertise. He would surely see that she had little knowledge of their purpose here, something that would likely look suspicious, even if Madam Pemberton had not been entirely forthcoming with her granddaughters.

"I do believe I can handle myself to gather the books and a few personal belongings from our home. We do know the home better than anyone else," Hermione finished, lying smoothly, only to feel another sharp kick from Tonks.

"Not alone," Draco countered, his eyes narrowing slightly. _What is she trying to achieve?_ "I will accompany you to the Manor, with a few others for protection, of course. You will be allowed to gather some personal belongings, but know that this mission is strictly for any information that will help the Dark Lord."

"It's settled then," Tonks jumped in, hasty to end the conversation lest Hermione promise the Death Eater any more. Though she gave no outward indication, Hermione could feel Tonks tapping her foot from beside her. This newest assignment made Tonks nervous and definitely deviated from their previous discussions to keep a low profile.

Hermione could not help the small smirk that appeared momentarily on her face. She had managed her first encounter quite well and was now in a position to gather more information for the Order. Draco took notice to the small smile before it slipped off of her face.

The door to their right banged open, and Lucius Malfoy gracefully strode in. Though still intimidating, Hermione noted he seemed far less powerful, like a wounded wolf rather than a pack leader. His eyes were heavy in their sockets, and his normally ageless face was beginning to show signs of wear.

"Draco, the Dark Lord requests your presence in the parlor," Lucius sneered. _So he's a messenger now._ Hermione thoughtfully observed. She easily sensed the tension between father and son. It was not at all how she had remembered their interactions. Draco had always been much like Lucius in mannerism and appearance. There was never any denying the bond between them, how Draco revered and respected his father.

Now, Hermione was certain that relationship no longer existed. Draco glared at his father slightly, before nodding. "Of course," he said, standing gracefully from the table. "Elanor, Adria" Draco stared directly at Hermione as he spoke. Despite it not being her name, the smooth sound as it formed from his lips made her gut clench in response. "I regret, I will be unable to show you to the library this morning. Another time," His words were a demand, not a suggestion. With that, he abruptly left the room with Lucius following in tow.

* * *

"What were you thinking back there," Tonks hissed once they were safely in their room. "You're putting a target on our backs," she huffed.

"We need to know why Voldemort so badly wanted the Pemberton's here. He would not just invite anyone into his inner circle. If I can just have access to Madam Pemberton's work-"

"But you don't have access to it. Not when they will be watching your every move," Tonks retorted. "We need to take this slow, we can't raise any suspicion."

"Tonks, think about this for a moment. You're much better at keeping an outward front, and my strength has always been in researching alone in a library. You can observe the day to day operations, and I can access all their knowledge, to try and piece together what the Dark Lord is planning. We need to find out what was in that letter. If going to the Pemberton Manor provides us some answers, then it must be done." Hermione explained. Begrudgingly, Tonks slowly saw the logic behind this plan.

"Fine, but know I still think this is foolish," Tonks grumbled. "Don't rush this Hermione. Draco is suspicious and you know it. It's best if we distance ourselves from him as much as possible. Let his curiosity burn out on its own."

Hermione sighed and gave a small, reluctant nod. "Fine, but we need to let the Order know of our new plan. We will have to find a way to hide some of the information from Voldemort, without being too obvious." Hermione said, opening up the notebook in her hand.

In her neat handwriting, she scrawled a message to the Order. Against Tonk's judgment, Hermione detailed her dream, the Deathly Hallows, Gregorovitch, and the Dark Lord's demand that they help find information. Hermione was eager to know if the Order had heard anything about Voldemort's apparent search for the Elder Wand. After a few moments, the ink disappeared onto the pages, like a forgotten memory. Hermione waited for a response, but, after ten minutes, she shut the journal.

"They must be busy," Tonks deduced, though her tone gave away her underlying nerves at not receiving a prompt response.

"I'm sure everything is fine," Hermione suggested, "It must be difficult to get everything done with so few of them left," her voice trailed off.

For the remainder of the day, Tonks and Hermione chatted about everything from the mission, to their initial impressions of the Manor, to insignificant topics such as old memories of Hogwarts. A feeling of gratitude washed over Hermione as she realized how fast the time was passing during their conversation. If she had been alone, Hermione knew this room would drive her mad before the mission was through. Though Hermione and Tonks knew each other well, Hermione felt the beginning bonds of a close friendship forming.

Every few hours, they checked the journal, still finding no response. Each time, they made a new excuse as to why the journal had gone unresponded. A knot in Hermione's stomach formed and made her feel again too ill to eat when a house elf showed up with food and tea. By supper time, both women were aching under the stresses felt in their core. The hum of the wards on their room only exacerbated this feeling.

Narcissa stood at the doorway, wearing a long, black cloak. There was no discernable emotion on her face as she requested them to follow her to the ballroom. The silence of their walk was only interrupted by the steady clicking of Narcissa's heels against the wooden floors. The sound drove Hermione mad, opposing the erratic beat of her heart.

As they entered the ballroom, Hermione noted that over a dozen Death Eaters, their cloaks pulled up over their faces, were present. She wondered idly which one was Draco. Despite the number of people in the room, there was a deathly stillness, a calm that only a tidal wave could break through. Adrenaline flooded Hermione. Tonks followed Narcissa deeper into the room, but Hermione's feet would no longer carry her forward, as if they were screaming at her, _leave now, get yourself out._ She knew that if there were this many Death Eater's gathered, the Dark Lord could not be much further away.

 _But why are we here?_ Hermione's brain whispered to her, fanning the flames, igniting her nerves.

"It's collateral," Draco whispered in Hermione's ear, as if he had read her thoughts. She had not heard the moment he had snuck up behind her, but she stayed entirely still, poised as a good pureblooded woman should be. "The Dark Lord requires all of his members to be intrinsically tied to his movement. Should he fail, he wants everyone to suffer, to pay the price for that failure. The Ministry would be none too kind to those who carried out the Dark Lord's bidding," Draco continued to explain, his voice like velvet low in Hermione's ear, his warm breath caressing her neck. She did not understand why he was telling her this information. _A threat perhaps? Or was it a warning?_

No one in the room seemed to be aware of their proximity, or of Hermione's discomfort at his closeness. Draco's sharp steely eyes astutely surveyed the woman's form in front of him from beneath his dark hood. A crooked smirk appeared on his face as he knowingly analyzed her body language; she was rigid, trying not to let his closeness (or his words) affect her, though, he knew they were from the sound of her ragged breaths. Instinctively, Hermione had tilted her ear closer to hear Draco's whispered words, and in the process, she had unthinkingly exposed more of her neck, which was marked with a trail of goosebumps.

 _Brilliant._ Draco, finally pleased with his effect over her body, moved away satisfied with his progress. As he walked past her, he felt the tension in her muscles release. Draco could not help but feast on her fear. Hermione was taken aback at how calm he always appeared, how collected and graceful the man held himself. She could read none of his intentions, which struck a certain level of unease in her heart.

Draco walked to meet his Aunt at the front of the ballroom. He surveyed the room, quickly counting before giving a curt nod toward Bellatrix. She walked towards the door at the far end of the ballroom.

The Dark Lord swept into the room, a covered body levitating behind him. Draco momentarily thought of his Godfather, and a bead of sweat dripped down his cool skin. _Don't think of that now,_ Draco chided himself silently. The image had been seared into his brain, still haunting his well being.

The dark cloth dropped off the body, to reveal a very much alive Gregorovitch. Draco had seen him hours before, and time had not been kind to him. The man was a bloody mess; streaks of tacky, dark blood was smeared over his skin. His robes were shaking with the twitching of his body. The Dark Lord mercilessly dropped the hovering body to the ground, and a resounding snap echoed through the ballroom.

The Death Eaters laughed, and the Dark Lord gave them his sinister sneer of pleasure.

"Before you, I have Gregorovitch, wandmaker _extraudinare_ ," Voldemort sarcastically quipped. "He will help me hold the power that I so desperately need to kill Harry Potter." Every word was enunciated with malice, and Draco attempted to ignore the chills it sent down his spine. "However, he is currently... _reluctant_ to help. Shall we help him understand what it means to go against me?" The Dark Lord questioned, his voice now booming with anger.

The Dark Lord fired off the first curse, sending Gregorovitch rolling across the floor in pain. The cry echoed out, sending sharp pain through Hermione's heart. It was the cry of a dying animal, forced into submission. Bellatrix looked on with a sick fascination, a cruel enjoyment, soaking in the sound of his pain. Her eyes nearly rolled back into her emaciated skull in ecstasy. She stepped up next, a yellow stream of light flying from her wand. Again, Gregorovitch shouted, blood pooling on the floor beneath his skull.

As if it was known, each wizard stepped forward, one by one, and tortured the poor wizard on the ground. Each new curse brought on a fresh, sharp scream, a new wound, a new mark on Hermione's memory.

"Where is the wand!" Voldemort bellowed out after each new curse was cast.

"I… I…" Gregorovitch was in too much agony to respond, his breaths coming out in small, frantic gasps as he fought to stay alive. His body twitched in agony, as he sought to find a position to shield his body against the intrusions. As Narcissa took her step forward to send a jet of cruel pain towards the man, a horror suddenly washed over Hermione, and her eyes briefly met Tonks, who shook her head ever so slightly. Hermione suddenly knew that they too would be required to partake in the torture of this innocent man.

Hermione's heart stopped in her chest. _I can't. I won't._ Her body froze, as all the eyes in the room turned to the Pemberton sisters. Tonks took the first step forward as if to send a private message to Hermione; _It will be alright. This will all be over shortly. Follow me._

Hermione could not believe what she was seeing as Tonks cast her own pain forward.

 _Stay alive at all costs,_ Hermione's consciousness whispered within her. She had to do this. To stay alive. For the Order. For her loved ones. If she failed this task, the Dark Lord would know. Tonks and her, they would be in no better a position than poor Gregorovitch.

Hermione took a shaky step forward, her face as impassive as she could muster. She lifted her wand, trying to quell the tremor in her hand. Gregorovitch stared at her, his eyes weary and nearly dead within his bleeding skull. _I'm so sorry_ , she wished she could scream.

" _Crucio"_ Hermione cried out, and Gregorovitch's eyes locked on her own. Hermione knew the look he gave her would be forever embedded in her memory. It was her eyes which witnessed his pain, not Elanor's. It took every fiber of her being to keep her standing upright, to ignore the jeers from the Death Eater's around her, the humming evil emanating from every facet in the room. Voldemort gave her a quiet nod of approval. She silently stepped back to allow the next Death Eater his turn.

Draco watched as Elanor's fingernails dug into the palms of her hand. Though her face was nearly expressionless, every so often her eyes would flash with pain, presumably at the suffering of Gregorovich. Everyone else in the room was so taken with the spectacle, that her odd tendencies went unnoticed to all but himself. The Dark Lord lifted his wand one last time, and a red light emitted from his wand. A small fire started to creep its way up Gregorivitch's arm, charring and melting his flesh. The pain was so intense, that the man could not scream. A perverse gurgle erupted from his mouth, and a mixture of spit and blood dribbled down his chin. His eyes were red, wide, watching the searing of his arm, smelling the burning of his own flesh from the bone.

Power was humming under Hermione's fingertips, and she could no longer control the raw emotion pulsing through her heart. She could stand by no longer and watch the suffering of this innocent man. She herself had done enough damage to him. Before Hermione knew what she was doing, her lips moved ever so slightly, a breathless whisper, not even a ghost could hear, and the power beneath her fingers became stronger, radiating until it silently shot from her body. No one else was aware of the pure magic that left Hermione's body, or how it cloaked Gregorovitch like a blanket, leaving him impervious to the magical fire creeping up his arm. All at once, Gregorovitch laughed lightly before slipping into unconsciousness.

The Dark Lord stopped his spectacle, a sinister smile on his face. He was disgustingly pleased with his work.

"It seems he's had enough for tonight. I hope you have all enjoyed the party," He hissed, and laughter once again erupted throughout the room. A few of the Death Eater's clapped their hands together, as though having just witnessed a good quidditch match. With that, he left, closely followed by Bellatrix, leaving the Death Eater's to converse with one another.

No one in the room was aware of the invisible, yet powerful magic that had caused Gregorovitch to fall into a blissful sleep, of the invisible shield Hermione had given to protect Gregorovitch from further harm. She herself was still unsure if she had caused such a reaction to occur. Her body felt slightly drained and sluggish, like a glass half full with butterbeer.

"Would you like to join us in the parlor for some tea?" Narcissa questioned, appearing unaffected by the show.

"I'm… I'm..." Hermione stammered. She needed air, she needed to get out of the stifling room that smelled of metallic blood. _Calm yourself,_ Hermione thought. She squared her shoulders and put on a display of apathy, as she had experienced Elanor feel in her dream earlier. "I'd much rather sleep right now. The last few days have exhausted me," Hermione said, in a tone that was as aloof as she could muster. "Perhaps we can set a time for tea tomorrow?" she asked.

Narcissa nodded understandingly, " Of course. We can have afternoon tea in the garden instead of meeting for breakfast."

"That sounds lovely," Hermione said, though her tone indicated that it was not, in fact, lovely at all. There was no joy on her face, as she was doing all she could to hold herself together. "Tomorrow then," Hermione said before turning on her heel to exit the room. Draco, noticing her exit, followed after her when no one was looking.

Draco followed silently behind and watched as Elanor's shoulders shook slightly, her distress was apparent to him, having manifested itself in her body language. _Why had this night bothered her so much_? Draco wondered to himself. Surely in a house that was so dedicated to ridding the world of mudbloods and muggles, she had seen similar displays of violence. As a child of a pureblood household, he was accustomed to hiding one's feelings, and he could only assume Elanor should have grown up in a similar fashion. Adria was no different than any other pure blooded woman he had met. In a strange way, Adria reminded him of his mother. Draco continued to follow Elanor silently as she briskly walked down the hallway.

 _Dammit,_ Hermione hissed to herself. She looked over at one of the glass cabinets. She could have sworn she had seen that artifact a few minutes ago. The entire decor looked far too familiar, and her gut twisted. This was the last place in the world she wanted to be lost, but that was exactly the position in which she found herself. Hermione let out a small, frustrated groan.

"Lost?" A silky voice quipped from behind her. Startled, Hermione jumped, quickly turning to find the source of the voice. When she saw who it was, she had to keep herself from rolling her eyes. _Of course he followed me..._

"I'm fine, thank you," Hermione coolly replied. Her heart was still in shambles at the sight of Draco calmly watching as the Dark Lord tortured the innocent wandmaker. The last thing she wanted was to give him the satisfaction of being chivalrous towards her.

Draco took a step closer to where Hermione was holding her ground, defiant. Before she had a moment to protest, he lifted his hand, placing it gently under her chin to lift her petite face upwards.

"For such a quiet woman, you certainly do have a lot of pride," Draco observed out loud. His tone aired on the side of playful, mixed with its usual steel edge.

"I don't need your assistance," Hermione repeated, pulling her face forcefully from his long fingers. There was no warmth in her voice. Draco was fascinated by the fire burning behind her copper eyes. It was not often that he witnessed such raw emotion, and it was even rarer that a woman pulled away from his touch.

"Suit yourself," Draco remarked coolly as though burned, turning to leave her alone. His tone was icier than hers, a trait she realized, she would never be able to match, regardless of how much she practiced. "One word of advice Ms. Pemberton, you'll regret it if you take the next left," Draco stated, without so much as turning around. The echo of his footsteps thumped in Hermione's head, threatening to split it open with each step.

 _Now you're really lost you fool,_ Hermione thought. If only she had been able to keep her emotions in check. But now, looking around the darkened hallway, full of Dark artifacts she regretted her exchange with Malfoy. She walked forward cautiously, winding down more hallways. _How big is this place?_ She wondered as she passed yet another set of stairs.

 _Think_ , Hermione huffed. How could she find her way back? The sudden pop of a house elf appearing behind her was the only thing that could have made her smile in that moment. _Did Malfoy send her?_ She wondered. Regardless, she wanted to give the tiny creature a hug but knew that would be far too telling. She graciously accepted the help of Minly. The house elf was suspicious of her kindness, but Hermione could not find it within herself to care. She would never stoop so low as to treat the poor thing unkindly, and so, she gratefully followed Minly all the way back to the safety of her room, to the only place she knew she would find some semblance of peace.

* * *

Draco stalked angrily into his room. Elanor was proving to be more difficult than he had anticipated. She was so entirely different from any other woman he had met, pureblood or otherwise. She was quiet, but that did not mean she lacked emotions. The way her copper eyes flashed, she was fiery. There was intelligence behind her, and pride. She saw through his ploy, and was not captivated by his charms as most women were. His power meant nearly nothing to her. It satisfied and frustrated him all the same.

Draco walked over to the bar in his room, and unclasped the bottle of fire whiskey. Finding no need for a glass, Draco put his lips directly to the bottle and tipped his head back. The cinnamon burned its way down his throat, giving him the relief of warmth that he did not often feel. He let out a deep groan and rested the cool bottle against his head.

Tonight had been like most every other torture he had seen. Voldemort, during his meeting with Draco earlier today, imparted on him the importance of Gregorovitch in finding the wand and left Draco to handle retrieving more information from him. Draco had quickly pawned off the rest of the duty to Goyle, and his father. They enjoyed making others feel pain in a way that Draco did not. Draco found he preferred intimidating others through his words, not torture. Had it not been for his father, he would not be in this position to begin with; Doing whatever was necessary to stay alive. Power and survival were his motivation, and killing was an unfortunate side effect of that.

There was so much plaguing his thoughts; The Elder Wand, the death of his godfather, the mysterious vial hidden in his room, and the equally mysterious Elanor. The timing was certainly peculiar. Severus is killed and weeks later these mysterious women are taken into the Manor after an ambush by the Order. Elanor was hiding something behind her cunning. beautiful features and Draco wanted so desperately to learn her secrets, for her to let him into her life. The alluring pull of her eyes and the spark caused by her skin was tempting beyond anything he had ever felt.

Slowly, but surely, he felt the numbing powers of the fire whiskey calm his veins, and he walked over to his empty bed. Sleep was the only cure for these violent nights, and Draco was eager to erase the images from his eyes.

From her room across the Manor, Hermione lay in her bed, also contemplating the events of today. The power surging through her veins was no longer evident to Hermione, but she was sure it was still there, silently coursing through her veins, waiting to be unleashed. Though Hermione knew to be wary of it, the call to such power felt alluring and tempting to her. If she used it to help the Order, it could not be harmful, right? She had already delved into the use of Dark Magic and felt it couldn't hurt to further utilize its effects while she had them under her control.

The larger question that Hermione wanted to answer was, did the Peverell bloodline possess power beyond what most Wizards had? Surely, if the Elder Wand was real, it required an equally powerful wizard to forge and wield it. Hermione did not believe it was Death that produced such a wand. Antioch must have been powerful, and the power of his bloodline was somehow passed on to his family. Hermione made note to look for an answer should she make it back to the Pemberton Manor. She was on the quest for answers. Tomorrow morning she would write the Order to ask if they knew of any more side effects of the dark spell she had performed.

After tonight's encounter, both with the Death Eaters and Draco, she could not shake the feeling that she was being hunted. Draco was like a cunning animal, baiting its prey, lulling it into a sense of false security before striking; his soft, yet powerful tone and his steely gazes left her breathless yet threatened in the same moment. The ultimate cat and mouse game. Tonks was right in her assumption, Hermione should attempt to avoid the Malfoy heir at any cost. It was likely, Hermione knew, that he was spying on them just as much as they were on him. But, this was also a fight she was not about to lose.

While she knew she should heed the warning of Tonks, and stay far away from Malfoy, she was determined to make her predator become her prey. If she was unwilling to avoid Malfoy, she would have to beat him at his own game.

* * *

 **Author's Note: And there you have it! New magic, spies, torture, lust for power, a dead godfather with a secret… all the makings of a mess. What can I do to improve? Or should I stay the course? Questions, opinions, and critiques all welcome! While you are waiting for updates to** _ **Behind Enemy Gates,**_ **please check out my other story** _ **The Labyrinth.**_ **Summary is in my bio. For those of you who already are reading** _ **The Labyrinth**_ **, a new update will be up shortly! :D -AMJ**


	4. Chapter 4

**Behind Enemy Gates**  
 _Chapter 4_

 **A/N: Finally, some great Dramione action in this chapter! Let the slow-burn begin…**

* * *

After the horrors of the night before, Hermione barely slept. Her dreams were turbulent, relentlessly replaying the cruelty she was no escaping her own mind; Behind her eyelids she vividly relived the raising of her wand to torture Gregorovitch. Draco's cool eyes, and the red eyes of Voldemort flashed violently in her head, the bleeding body of Gregorovitch twitched on the ground before her as she tossed and turned in her bed. In her dreams, she was always just a moment too late in helping the old wand maker, and he engulfed in flames that destroyed the Manor. The heat from Voldemort's blaze felt real, and in her unconscious state, she burned up under her bed sheets.

Woven in with the nightmare of Gregorivitch's torture were more of Elanor's memories. However, it was difficult to discern what was reality and what was just her imagination toying with her fragile state of mind. From the burning of the parlor room in the Malfoy Manor, suddenly, Hermione was transported to another time and place, abruptly pulled from her body and once again trapped in Elanor's.

She was crouching, peeking through a set of doors, hidden in shadows. From the robes hanging above her, she assumed she was in a coat closet of sorts. Elanor seemed to be hiding from the violence occurring on the other side of the door. Hermione wanted more than anything to inch forward, to push the door open and confirm if what she was seeing was real, despite it seeming impossible.

In front of the closet, a young Mad-Eye Moody dueled with a man and a woman, sending sparks of red streaming from his wand, and dodging the onslaught of curses sent his way. Both of Mad Eye's legs were perfectly intact, however, his eye was not, and there was already a map of scars littered across his face; the signs of age were evident in his wrinkles. Hermione wondered how long ago this duel had taken place.

Elanor glanced down, and from what Hermione could see through the darkness of the shadows, the hand was small, that of a very young child. A feeling of power began to surge through her veins, one which Hermione recognized as the tingling she had felt just before she placed a shield over Gregorovitch. All at once, the power burst from the young girl's chest, and Hermione felt Elanor's small voice cry out in shock.

Hermione was unsure whether it was the wave of unfiltered power or his own doing that sent him flying, but just as the current flew through the room, Mad-Eye was blasted out of the nearest window. Elanor closed her eyes briefly, and when light again filtered through, the other two wizards were lying on the ground in the middle of the room.

Slowly, Elanor crawled out of the closet. When she stood, Hermione realized just how small she was. She could not have been more than three, given the size of her small frame. When she got closer to the bodies, she came to an abrupt stop, falling to her knees next to the lifeless figures. Their eyes were open, shocked and still glassy, frozen in fear. A single drip of blood fell out of the corner of the woman's mouth.

"Mum? Dad?" The young girl choked out, utterly shocked at the feeling of her mother's stiff body beneath her fingertips. "Mum, wake up!" She screamed. "Dad? Help! Wake up!" She called over and over again, for what seemed like hours, her small voice carrying through the room. The dream world swirled again, and the flash of Voldemort's eyes coursed through Hermione's mind, sending her reeling in a fit of pain.

When Hermione again opened her eyes to the dream world, Madam Pemberton rushed into the room, and took in the bloody scene; a crying child, and two dead parents. She was more slender than Hermione remembered, and there were far fewer wrinkles upon her thin skin, ever regal looking. The signs of age were nearly erased in the memory.

"Gramma, did I do this?" Elanor stuttered fearfully through an endless stream of tears.

"Yes. But it's quite alright. It was their time," Madam Pemberton said in a reassuring tone, cold to the death of her own child. "Useless fools the both of them, being reckless when there was so much potential right in front of them. They could have destroyed everything," she sneered as she lifted the dead woman's sleeve to reveal the evil ink of the Dark Mark on her pale, lifeless arm.

As Elanor clumsily followed Madam Pemberton out of the room, she took one glance back at the corpses of her dead parents before the room swirled in a mist of grey.

When Hermione finally awoke from her twisted dreams, she felt anything but rested, covered in a cold sweat, and still shivering with fear.

If anything in her dream was to be trusted, Elanor had killed her parents. Hermione shuddered. The power that Hermione felt last night was very real, and much more uncontrollable than she anticipated. Hermione sat deadly still in bed, trying to process all the new information she had seen. Elanor's parents were Death Eater's, and yet, Madam Pemberton did not seem to care for them. In fact, it was becoming more apparent that she had ulterior motives for keeping Elanor's power a secret.

And yet, despite the intrusion into her mind, and the forced bond they shared, Elanor was still a mystery to Hermione. The witch seemed clearly uncomfortable with the brutality of her grandmother, a coward when Hermione had last seen her, unwilling to lift her wand in defense of herself. Hermione knew she was different than this woman, and she was frustrated, and weary by the untamed power of Elanor that flowed freely through her. Hermione lifted herself heavily out of bed, and made her way to the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror, she paused, examining the face that was not her own. Ellie, though unrested, still looked surprisingly well; She did not develop the dark bags under her eyes that Hermione did. Her skin was clear, almost porcelain in its perfection. Her eyes, the only feature she had left that were truly hers, were worn, weathered copper against her dark, sleek hair. After only a few days in this body, Hermione was still rather uncomfortable, like wearing clothes that were owned by another.

When she finally emerged from her bedroom, Tonks was on the ground, picking up a vase that she had apparently knocked off the mantle. Her hair was a glowing shade of blue.

"Um Tonks," Hermione said softly, not wanting to startle her friend. "Your... um," Hermione pointed to her hair. Tonks took a strand between her fingers, holding it before her eyes to examine it. An abrupt snort left her slender nose, and her blue hair changed back to black.

"Woops!" Tonks quipped. "So, how awful did you sleep?" She said, her dark humor allowing Hermione to lift her lips in a reluctant smile. Clearly she was not the only one who had trouble sleeping last night.

"Just as awful as you'd expect after taking part in torturing someone," Hermione huffed, taking a seat on the sofa. "Tonks, last night, I… I did something. I can't exactly explain it, but I believe Elanor has a special...gift of sorts." Hermione began cautiously. She was having trouble choosing the correct words to accurately reflect what was coursing through her veins. It was an immense power, but not an unfamiliar one at this point, having experienced it a few times now. "I was the one who caused Gregorovitch to fall asleep last night. I stopped him from burning to death. There was this… this invisible shield I could cast," Hermione said, shaking her head at how absurd she was sounding.

"A shield?" Tonk's slowly repeated, trying to assess Hermione's words. "Are you sure you're alright Hermione. I know it's been stressful and perhaps-"

"I'm fine!" Hermione huffed in frustration. "Elanor has a power. Last night, in a dream-"

"Another dream?" Tonks questioned, still slowly glancing at Hermione like she was a blast-ended skewer.

"Yes." Hermione said in an exasperated tone. "Last night I had a dream from Elanor's point of view. It was at least a decade ago, maybe more. Mad-Eye was there, he still had his leg, and he was dueling against her parents, they were Death Eaters, and all of a sudden this… this wave of power erupted from Elanor," Hermione said in a rush now, overcome with emotion. "Elanor killed her parents. Mad-Eye managed to escape out the window before the blast killed him," Hermione finished.

"And you're sure this is real?" Tonks said cautiously. Hermione could see the apprehension in her face; Even in a transformed body, Hermione could read Tonks like a book.

"I honestly don't know, but I can't think of any other explanation for this. It's entirely too coincidental," Hermione said analytically. "And I _know_ what happened last night. I felt it."

"I think we need to warn the Order of Elanor's power," Tonks decided after a moment. "Have they responded since last night?" She asked, suddenly looking even more concerned than she had before.

Hermione quickly ran back to her room to retrieve the charmed journal. Upon opening the pages, she gasped softly.

There had been no response from the Order in regards to their messages the prior night.

Hermione reached for the quill, and scrawled a desperate message,

 _ **Is anyone out there?**_

Minutes passed slowly. Time seemed to halt as they stared at the blank page of the journal. After countless moments of held breaths, and heavy heartbeats, there still was no reply.

Tonks paced the room, panicked. "There is something wrong. They should have responded by now," she hissed out, frustrated. "We have to go help them!"

"No. We must stay on course," Hermione whispered back, "If we leave, our mission was a failure. Or worse, we could give away their hiding location."

Tonks sat on the couch next to Hermione, her head resting in her hands. "I feel so helpless," She breathed out painfully. Hermione briefly wondered if she was thinking of Remus. "I keep thinking the worst has happened. And after last night…" Tonks shook her head anxiously. Hermione had never seen Tonks in such a solemn state; the woman was normally exuberant, strong, and fantastically comical. She placed her hand on Tonks' knee.

"We will keep sending information to them. Anything we can give them will likely be our best chance at helping, wherever they are," Hermione said while scrawling with her quill on the blank pages of the journal.

To Hermione, it was disconcerting to see the ink seep deep into the pages, disappearing into a seemingly endless void. As she wrote, she explained of Ellie's power to the Order, of Voldemort's torture of Gregorovitch , and of his frantic attempts at finding the elusive Elder Wand. She asked them to keep a close eye on Elanor, and if they knew anything about the power of the Peverell line. She made sure to warn them of their likely visit to the Pemberton Manor, and to keep away. And then finally, she pleaded with them to keep safe, and to respond as soon as they could… if they could at all send a sign that they were alive. After Hermione uneasily shut the journal, Tonks heaved out a heavy sigh.

"I'll see what information I can get from Narcissa today. She wanted me to pass the message along that tea would be served in the rose garden at 3 o'clock this afternoon, if you're interested in joining us," Tonks said. Her eyes looked dewy, and far away, unfocused. Hermione reached out and gave her hand a small squeeze to reassure her, despite the fear coursing through her own veins.

"Why don't you rest until then?" Hermione thoughtfully suggested to her friend, who nodded idly in response.

Long after Tonks retreated back to her room, Hermione sat, dumbfounded by their predicament. The stress was maddening, crushing her chest with a pressure so heavy it threatened to stop her heart. The Order was in trouble, likely because of the very people that surrounded them. She was having trouble keeping pace with the quick thoughts of her mind.

Not able to take the tension building within her, Hermione stood, deciding that she needed to put space between her and the empty journal.

Grabbing her wand, she set off in search of a place of solitude. Diving into research and surrounding herself with familiarity in this entirely unfamiliar place was the only cure she could think of for her anxious mind. She longed to feel like herself again, to see her own reflection in the mirror. And besides, the sooner her and Tonks identified Voldemort's plans for the Elder Wand, the sooner they could begin planning their exit.

Unlike the prior night, Hermione set off with the intention of getting lost. The manor was slightly more manageable during the daytime, with the sun peeking behind the curtains and providing more light down the dimly lit halls. She stopped every so often to examine the museum that was the Malfoy Manor. The Dark Artifacts were oddly bewitching, and it awakened a source of deep fascination within her.

Her grandest find came shortly after she set off, when she passed a small, wooden door that was nearly hidden against the vastness of the Manor halls. The old, rickety door was out of place against the grand golden color of the wall and the magnificent paintings that framed either side of it. Walking closer to the door, Hermione did not pause to think about her actions before pushing it open.

Behind the door was a fairly small, cozy room, with shelves on every wall filled to the brim with books. The room itself was dimly lit, an intimate fireplace catching with light as she walked further into the room. The small door quietly clicked shut behind her. There were two couches set facing one another, with a small table between them. At the back of the room was an ornate desk, carved with images of wizards, dragons, and castles, the wood telling stories in its grain. Trinkets of all sorts adorned the desk, and were cluttered throughout the library.

Unlike the artifacts in the halls, these did not necessarily look corrupted by the forces of dark magic. She recognized a sneak-o-scope atop the desk, surrounded by various books. Looking around at the shelves, Hermione felt comforted by the mix of ancient and new books. Wasting no time, she set to work exploring each shelf in the crammed space, finding books on wands, and dark magic. As she set the stack of carefully chosen books down on the table she paused, and considered the desk for a moment. Should she dare disturb the books there?

Hesitantly she took a step closer, unable to quell her inquisitiveness. This was clearly someone's space, and she was most definitely trespassing in an area she had no place being. But her curiosity, as always, got the best of her sensibilities. Peaking at the desk, she noted there were a few scrawled notes on a piece of parchment. Next to the notes was an old, yet ornately designed copy of the Deathly Hallows, the childhood fairy tale that most wizarding children grew up hearing. She reached for the book, unable to contain herself from seeing the beautiful pages within. She took the book over to the couch, and sat upon it, tucking her legs up to the side, and began to read. Knowing what she did now about Voldemort's quest for the Elder Wand, and the secret magic of the Peverell's, she read slowly, looking for any details she might have missed.

"Getting into other people's things without permission is naughty, you know." Draco slyly stated as he leaned against the door frame to the library. Startled, Hermione's heart stopped. She had been so engrossed in her reading that she had not noticed the blonde man enter. How would Ellie react? For a moment Hermione was sure she looked like a frightened animal. _Relax Hermione,_ she thought to herself. In that moment, Hermione made the quick decision to respond as she normally would. Draco had no idea who Ellie was, right? So, therefore, he would never know the difference in how she acted. It was another way to keep a hold of herself through the darkness of her mission.

"The Dark Lord demanded our help, and I got bored while I had to wait around for you. I'm really doing you a favor," Hermione finished, trying to sound as nonchalant and arrogant as Draco. She only partially succeeded. Her response earned her a light chuckle from Draco, though, at her words or her unsuccessful venture into arrogance she did not know. He casually leaned up against the doorframe, eyeing the beautiful woman carefully before speaking again.

"So last night...Why were you so upset? " Draco inquired bluntly. Hermione was thrown by the rapid change in topic.

"I was not," Hermione said coolly, avoiding Draco's gaze. It irked her that she had been so transparent with her feelings, and so she refused to acknowledge Draco's assessment. Had she looked at him, she would have seen the roll of his eyes, and the raising of a single blonde eyebrow upon his forehead.

"Is that so? Well in any case, I wanted to apologize. I should not have spoken to a guest like that," Draco said apologetically.

Hermione's eyes widened a fraction, and she paused at his genuine tone. For the first time since she had known him she was hearing an apology, and a fairly honest one at that. For what it was worth, it sounded… well it sounded nice. Despite this though, she could not help but feel bitter. In their years at Hogwarts, he had chosen to be nothing but cruel to her due to her blood status. He treated his other peers with marginally more respect than her, and he clearly saw Elanor as an equal of sorts, one worthy of an apology. But alas, he did not know any of this, nor was it the time to show her bitterness, otherwise she would raise his suspicion again. She sighed and nodded in cautious acceptance of his words.

"It's alright," She grudgingly whispered back, still feigning interest in the book on her lap. Having never spoken more than a few harsh words with Draco, Hermione was growing curious to how he treated others. He certainly had a way of inspiring fear and loyalty in his peers, which is why she assumed the Dark Lord trusted him. But as she looked up to stare at him, he seemed so different from the other Death Eater's, standing before her so casually, still a schoolboy in many ways.

"So I take it you like to read?" Draco questioned, looking around the room, and noting the tall stack of books piled high next to Elanor.

 _Does Elanor like to read_? Hermione wondered, though, it did not matter either way. If she didn't before, the Elanor Hermione was crafting would love to read.

"Very much so," Hermione replied, still trying to steady her heart.

Hermione had never seen him look so relaxed before. His hair was slightly disheveled, as though he had just risen from bed. Silver blonde hair swept across his face, longer than she had remembered it. His hands were stuffed into the pockets on his robe, and underneath he simply wore black slacks and a black t-shirt. As much as it pained her to admit it, Draco had grown from a pointy faced ferret into a strikingly handsome man. Draco noticed her examining him, and smirked, pleased with his obvious effect on her.

"What's so amusing?" Hermione goaded back.

"You might be the first woman I have ever known to not only break into my private library, but have an interest in my books," Draco said, an odd tone taking hold in his voice.

"This is your library?" Hermione said, not bothering to hide the shock in her tone.

Draco nodded. "My mother allowed me to carve out this space for my own when I was a child. I think I've almost overgrown it, honestly," Draco smirked, nodding to the overstuffed shelves and overall cluttered nature of the room. "It's my private space to come and clear my head."

"I'm sorry to intrude," Hermione said, her cheeks turning rosy at the sudden intimacy associated with the room she sat within.

"It's quite alright. Even the most intelligent pureblooded women I know typically do not read. Once they reach maturity, they are expected to favor gossip and fashion magazines," Draco explained. "I've never had a reason to take anyone in here," He shrugged, trying not to show how much it really meant to see someone else in this room. Even more disconcerting was that the sight of her sitting on the couch, nestled amongst his books did not bother him in the slightest, as he thought it would. Admittedly, he quite enjoyed it.

"Thats absurd." Hermione said, before she could censor herself. "How can you possibly assume that about all pureblood witches?"

"I know more than a few of them," Draco said, the smirk on his face widening as he saw Eleanor understand his innuendo, causing his silver eyes to look even more maddeningly tantalizing. Hermione blushed, but did not doubt the truth in his words for a moment.

"Well I feel sorry for you then...your dating life must be quite dull," Hermione challenged, keeping her eyes firmly focused on the book in her lap. In reality, she was thinking about her previous relationships. Her trouble had always been that none of the men who had gravitated towards her provided any semblance of a challenge. They were unable to keep up with her quick mind, and did not understand her love of books. Boring was the term she would use to describe those men, in her very limited experience. Entirely uninspiring.

Draco's eyebrows raised into his blonde hair. "A bold statement. How can you possibly assume that?" Draco smirked casually, mimicking her words as he flung himself on the couch across from her.

"I find intellectual stimulation far superior to talking about the latest gossip. It's boring and pointless," Hermione surmised haughtily.

"Well you'll be happy to know that I agree," Draco said, much to Hermione's surprise. "But, now this poses the mystery of how a pureblooded witch has managed to escape a typical upbringing?" Draco thought aloud.

"Our upbringing was anything but typical. We were homeschooled. It was only ever us and our Grandmother." Hermione lied, trying to explain how Elanor could be so unlike all other purebloods. _It's because you're not one,_ Hermione thought ironically to herself.

"Ah yes, the Grandmother who did not believe it was becoming for girls to know information about her correspondence with the Dark Lord," Draco said coolly, noting the inconsistency in her story. "But, it appears you still know more than you are letting on, Ms. Pemberton."

"Ellie will do," Hermione kept her voice as collected as possible, despite the deliciously warm feeling that filled her in response to his masculine voice. "What makes you believe that, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Draco will do," His velvety voice again mimicked her words, though they sounded much smoother, if not a tad icier. "You're reading a book about the Deathly Hallows. Such an intelligent woman and yet you take me for a fool?" Though his words sounded harsh, his silver eyes were alive, dancing with amusement upon his face. He was testing her.

"I would think no such thing," Hermione feigned shock, a touch of sarcasm finding its way into her tone. "I'm assuming you've heard about the contents of the letter then?" Hermione baited him without answering his question. She knew this very well may be her only chance at casually finding out what else Madam Pemberton had written to the Dark Lord.

Draco sat upon the couch across from her, still grinning from her playful mocking. But, what unsettled Hermione the most was how easily she was able to maintain conversation with the man. He was right, she had taken him for a fool for many years, simply because of his treatment of her. However, she knew she had to give him credit where it was due; Draco was many things, but stupid was not one of them. In fact, she knew that after herself, he was one of the most academically gifted at Hogwarts.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," Draco said condescendingly.

"Of course you don't," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Then you really aren't of use to me at the moment. I'm sure the Dark Lord does not like distractions to interfere with his plans, and, if you cannot help, then you're a distraction.

"No he doesn't," Draco agreed. "I on the other hand…" The right side of his lips pulled up in a mischievous smirk, "Love a good distraction."

"Has anyone ever told you that you are far too forward?"

"Says the woman who is trying to kick me out of my own library because I am distracting her," Draco chuckled. "But no, I can't say that I've heard that before," Draco said, amused at the blush building upon Elanor's cheeks. Her innocence was entertaining to say the least. This assignment would be more fun than Draco initially anticipated.

"Well, you are," Hermione harrumphed.

"I'm _so sorry_ to offend you, Ellie." Draco sarcastically said, his eyes bright. This was the most feeling he had allowed himself in a while. It made him feel like a young, carefree boy at Hogwarts again. Since the Dark Lord had returned, his life was filled with misery, with angst and heartache and above all else, unimaginable stress. It had been ages since he could enjoy playful banter, and he was finding it addictingly intoxicating.

"I'll forgive you if you make yourself useful and tell me what you know. I can't be helpful otherwise," Hermione quipped. Her naive, yet knowing eyes widened, alluringly pleading with Draco for his knowledge. In response, something tightened deep in his stomach.

"Sneaking around the manor, reading books beyond what is customary for most young women, ordering me to give you information… you truly are a fascinating woman," Draco observed. Since the beginning of their conversation, Ellie had stopped pretending to be interested in her book, and the full weight of her eyes was now focused on him. He sensed her analyzing his every expression, every breath, and he met her with the same intensity.

"You're stalling," Hermione keenly analyzed. Draco's eyebrows again raised into his blonde hair. Were it not for the light radiating from behind his cool eyes, Hermione would have thought she had overstepped her bounds.

"Alright, I'll tell you what I know, but first, I was here for a purpose before you rudely distracted me."

"You're maddening," Hermione rolled her eyes as he again attempted to distract her.

Draco laughed, and despite herself, Hermione's lips quirked up in a smile at the sound. It was hearty, and masculine, and above all else, genuine. "That's not nearly the worst I've been called, princess. Anyway, I'm here to take you and your sister back to your Manor to collect some books and your belongings."

Hermione nodded, eager to explore the Pemberton Manor. "Of course. I'll go wake her, but you still owe me information, Draco" Hermione said, reaching to clean up the stacks of books on the table in front of her.

"Demanding woman," Draco muttered, unable to keep from smiling. "Don't worry about cleaning up. You can use this room whenever you need. It'll be our secret," Draco nearly whispered, his masculine voice sounding smooth and almost sultry around the edges. He knew somewhere deep in his consciousness that he should not allow this woman to intrude in his personal space, particularly given his lingering suspicion of her, but he could not help but want to get to know her more. _For my mission, of course_ , Draco hastily thought to himself, standing to leave the room.

Hermione did not know if it was the comforting nature of the room, or her newly acquired knowledge as to its intimacy, but as Draco guided her out of the room, his hand brushing the small of her back, she felt oddly warm, like a slow fire had started in her core.

Bitterly, Hermione again thought about how he would never act so kind towards her if he knew who she really was, and what her "blood status" was. She pulled away from his touch and walked quickly ahead of him, trying not to show her sudden anger. As with the night before, Draco felt a coldness take over him at the abrupt departure of her body from his touch. This was now the second time that she had pulled away from him, and he had no idea why.

Before he could catch up with her, Ellie called back over her shoulder, "My sister and I will meet you in the foyer. I'm assuming we are taking the Floo Network again?"

"Yes. Don't take too long," Draco warned, coldness intentionally seeping back in his tone. Whatever spark had been present in his library had faded away, and they were back to their formalities.

Hermione rushed back to her room, and shook Tonks awake from where he had fallen asleep on the couch. The journal was strewn across the table, and some ink had dripped on the wooden surface. _Tonks must have been trying to speak with the Order again_ , Hermione thought to herself.

"Tonks, we need to go. Draco is taking us to the Pemberton Manor."

Groggily, Tonks yawned, and gave a small nod. She stood, pressing the wrinkles out of her robes.

"Any word from the Order?" Hermione dared to ask. Tonks simply shook her head, and in response. Hermione's heart constricted. But there was no time to worry about that. The women quickly made their way to the foyer in silence, both lost in their thoughts.

Draco and two other Death Eater's whom Hermione did not recognize were waiting for them.

"Elanor, Adria," Draco acknowledged them cooly, starkly contrasting how he had spoken with Hermione earlier. "We do not have long. Take only what is important." Without any further instruction, the group set off to the Pemberton Manor.

When they arrived at the Manor, the Death Eater's instantly set to work overturning bookshelves, and paintings, checking in every nook of the house.

"Looking for anything in particular?" Hermione questioned Draco, curious as to why they were turning the house inside out. Truthfully, she wanted to do the same. Draco gave a sharp stare, and shook his head before moving to another bookcase in the study, emptying it of its contents. Taking that as a sign that he was not willing to answer any of her questions, Hermione followed Tonks upstairs to see the bedrooms. She felt uneasy as to why Draco was suddenly treating her with such disdain, much like he had the prior night. Honestly, the man was moodier than Ron….

Reaching the top of the stairs, Hermione noted that though the manor was large, it had surprisingly few rooms.

"They are looking for something. Try to find Elanor's room, I'll find Adria's" Tonks whispered. "Look for anything we can send to the Order." Hermione silently nodded and began opening the doors to each room. She remembered from her dream that Elanor's room had a large window overlooking the stables. With that in mind she continued opening doors down the hall.

Finally, Hermione walked to the last room in the hall and opened the door. Instantly, she felt an odd sensation of belonging, despite never having physically set foot in this room before.

The room was stark white, and mostly bare save for a few pieces of furniture. There were no pictures, no paintings, or trinkets. There were some plain black robes hanging listlessly in the closet, pressed and untouched. Hermione felt uneasy at how unemotional the room felt, the coldness it exuded. And yet, it still felt familiar. She walked over to the small bedside table, and opened the drawer. It was bare. From behind her, she heard a small hum.

"So the mystery continues," Draco said, observing the clinical room. His tone had warmed slightly since their interaction downstairs, leaving Hermione to catch up with his turbulent mood.

"What to do you mean?" Hermione said coyly, choosing to act oblivious to the obvious disconnect between the personality she was portraying, and Elanor's crisp room...a fact that surely looked suspicious to Draco's keen eyes. Draco gracefully sauntered into the room, walking forward until his shoulder brushed hers.

"It's not at all what I imagined your room to look like," Draco shrugged loosely, meeting her gaze and becoming entranced by the warm copper that he saw. Draco could not help but feel drawn to Ellie, a feeling that was very unlike his usual detached demeanor; there was just something about the girl. It left him reeling to catch up with his uncharacteristically changing emotions. Defiantly, Hermione stared back, stuck in a contest of strength against his icy eyes, neither willing to look away from the other first.

"And what exactly did you imagine my room to look like?" Hermione asked, more than a little curious as to how the Malfoy heir viewed _her_ ; not Ellie, but the woman beneath the farce. Her chin was sharply angled toward his face, and her jaw was hard set, trying desperately to keep her emotions in check.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Whips and chains, some leather. Something to give away your domineering nature," Draco smirked, his eyes flashing with a dark, almost sultry amusement. Hermione flushed a shade of scarlet that she had never before as uncharacteristic images of herself intimately tangled up in the sheets floated through her mind. "Honestly, I imagined it to look something like my library. Cluttered and filled with secrets and life."

"Is that where you hide your secrets then? In your library?" Hermione questioned. Draco simply smirked in response.

"Wouldn't you love to know?" Draco replied.

Hermione shrugged, mustering as much ice from within her soul as she could. She did not need Draco thinking she was intrigued by him, though in truth, she was very drawn to the enigma of a man in front of her. She knew that Draco had been unable to kill Dumbledore, according to Harry's story. So then how could he be so entrapped by the cause of the Death Eater's, when he was so unwilling to carry out one of their greatest missions? It was clear to her that Lucius had fallen far from the inner circle. And yet Draco, the snide, remarkably pretentious boy she had grown up with, was showing a different side to himself at the same time. He was surprisingly charismatic, and charming when they were alone. _Is he like this with others?_ She wondered.

"I'll leave you to gather the rest of your belongings," Draco said, taking a step out of the room. In truth, he did not want the other Death Eater's to see his fascination with her. It was best if they saw nothing of their blossoming relationship. "We leave in five minutes." He cautioned before departing.

After he left, Hermione quickly searched the rest of the room for anything at all that would help the Order, or would help her learn about the mystery of Elanor's power, but there was nothing. It was as though Elanor's whole life was bare, just like her room; Crisp, cold and emotionless.

As she walked back into the hall, feeling dejected, Hermione bumped into Tonks, who gave her a silent look that Hermione instantly interpreted to mean that she had found something. Her heart quickened. As the group passed through the parlor again, Hermione gasped as she noticed everything was overturned. It looked as though it had been entirely looted. Desk drawers were wide open, bookshelves bare, and paintings thrown to the floor.

"Your belongings will be taken to Malfoy Manor. Any books that you need will be waiting for you in your living area," Draco coolly explained. "From here, I believe my mother requested your presence in the rose garden. I'll escort you there," Draco finished. There was no room to argue with his demands, and both women simply nodded.

Just as Draco had demanded, the moment they arrived back at the Malfoy Manor, he walked them straight to the rose garden without another word, giving them a curt nod when they finally arrived at their destination. The interaction left Hermione feeling dizzy. He was so temperamental, oscillating from warm, almost playful, to cold and calculating within minutes. Not having time to think about it now, she shook herself of the thoughts and anxiously followed Adria into the rose garden for tea with Narcissa Malfoy. 

* * *

As soon as he was rid of the women, Draco walked quickly down the hall to the main foyer, knowing the Dark Lord was eager to hear of his progress with the Pemberton women. As he arrived, he gathered his thoughts and emotions together, hardening himself before entering the room.

"My Lord," Draco said, bowing slightly at the snakelike man in front of him.

"Have you any news to report to me?" Voldemort said, clasping his hands up near his face.

"Elanor went straight to the library this morning," Draco felt the need to leave out the part about how she had entered his room without consent."I found her reading about the Deathly Hallows. I suspect she knows very little of Madam Pemberton's plans, however. Both of the Pemberton women then accompanied me to look through the Pemberton Manor. I found a few artifacts of importance that we need to examine further, and we brought books and some of their belongings back. I will go through the house with another team, without the girls to look for anything else." Draco concluded, clinical in his tone.

"Adria was not in the library this morning?" Voldemort coolly asked.

"Not today, My Lord. Would you like me to demand she goes?" Draco asked.

"No… No," Voldemort said, deep in thought. "I want to see what she does on her own. Continue to observe them, and report back any new information Elanor comes across in her research." Voldemort paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully before continuing. "Have either of the women displayed any interesting… abilities? Beyond what is normal?" Voldemort asked.

Draco thought for a moment. Ellie was certainly odd, but he had not seen anything unusual besides for her personality quirks.

"No My Lord. From what I have seen, Ellie is odd, but nothing extraordinary."

"Odd?" the Dark Lord questioned.

"She's just unusual for a pure-blooded woman. She is is an intellectual, and she can be quite..." Draco paused momentarily, thinking of an adequate word to describe the fiery woman,"...bold, My Lord. She doesn't follow convention."

"And should we be concerned about this?" Voldemort again questioned. Draco felt the pit of fear harden in his stomach at something in his tone.

"No, My Lord. I believe it is because of her reclusive upbringing. Both sister's do not know any other way," Draco explained. He felt the unfamiliar tug of protectiveness as he said his last sentence. By no means was he covering for Ellie, and yet, he felt the need to explain away her oddities, to normalize them before the Dark Lord.

"Draco, since I have begun researching Antioch Peverell's lineage, I have come across many other powerful wizards in his line. The last of which was Madam Pemberton's father. After his death, Madam Pemberton holed up in her Manor with her children and grandchildren and was rarely heard or seen again," As Voldemort spoke, he stood, gliding along the room to stand directly in front of Draco. "But why would they hide? They had nothing to fear. They had power, and wealth, and were strong in their social circles. What could they be hiding? Even when she helped our cause, it was always from a distance." The Dark Lord's voice became a whisper as he rhetorically asked Draco these questions. "I believe that they have a power that goes beyond the Elder Wand, that runs in their veins, that they wanted to keep hidden. It was not until I reached out to Madam Pemberton about the Elder Wand that she reluctantly offered her services to me. And now she is dead. Did she hide the power from her granddaughters to protect them? Did she set us up to fail, I wonder?"

"My Lord, do you think the girls have this power as well?" Draco asked. The information the Dark Lord was sharing fascinated Draco, like all matters of power normally did.

"Why keep them hidden? Why train them at home?" Voldemort hissed at the puzzle he could not solve. "I need to test them Draco."

"How so, My Lord?" Draco asked, his deep voice devoid of any emotion as he watched Voldemort formulate a plan.

"A raid. It would test their loyalty, but we may also be able to get a display of power out of them." Voldemort answered. Draco's stomach dropped even further. Raids typically meant torturing muggles in their homes, something Draco was secretly very uncomfortable with. There was nothing pleasant about the experience, and it always left him feeling ill about his life.

"Very well," Draco replied.

"I expect answers soon, Draco," The Dark Lord warned.

"Did you learn any more information from Gregorovitch about the Wand, My Lord?"

"He's a withering, pathetic fool," Voldemort sneered, "The last he saw the wand, he claims it was being stolen from him, by a man with blonde hair." Voldemort glided back to his chair, and sat down warily, hissing, "I cannot wait to eradicate all the fools of this world, Draco. I will find the wand. And you will continue to looks for signs of power in the girls. I need it Draco. I need the power of the Peverell's."

"Yes, My Lord," Draco bowed before Voldemort, before turning to exit the room.

There was a hard knot forming in the pit of Draco's stomach. The impatience of the Dark Lord was not to be toyed with. He needed more information to appease his Master, or the trust he had worked so hard to gain, would mean nothing.

Instead of meeting Ellie and Adria in the garden for tea, he took a hard right and followed the hall down to the end of the Manor. Once there, he opened a small door, and entered an old guest bedroom. Quickly walking over to the stone fireplace, he tapped his wand three times against the mantle, and suddenly, the solid rock grate disappeared, revealing a small passage into the wall. Silently, he slipped his tall, slim body through the passage and followed the narrow tunnel through the walls. Eventually, he came to a dead end. Tapping his wand three times on the wall, the rock transformed again, revealing the inside of another fireplace….

The fireplace in the Pemberton sister's suite.

* * *

 **A/N: Another chapter done! I apologize for the length, it got away from me. The next two chapters are some of my favorite for this story, and I cannot wait to post them. Thank you all for your kind comments, they really help drive the story forward. I have made a few changes to the overall plotline to make the ending more impactful, so pardon the slow updates while I edit the earlier chapters to set up the later ones.**

 **As always- thoughts, comments, critiques? Favorites, Follows, and Comments are all welcome :] - AMJ**


	5. Chapter 5

**Behind Enemy Gates**  
 _Chapter 5_

 **A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Every time I post a new chapter, I look forward to hearing everyone's predictions and critiques. The next few chapters are some of my favorite I've written for this story. Admittedly, this one starts a tad slow, but please give it a chance until the end. A lot of development between our favorite pair happens later on in this chapter, more questions, and a few answers all thrown in the mix. Enjoy! - AMJ  
**

* * *

As soon as Draco stepped foot into the Pemberton sister's room, a faint hum rang out across the suite. **  
**

 _Wards? Shit…._ Draco thought. _Why would they need to set up wards?_

Draco knew he did not have long. He hoped his mother was in her usual interrogation mode, making the girls answer as many of her questions as she could squeeze into a single sitting of tea. The longer they were distracted from his intrusion, the better.

The first thing Draco noticed as he walked into the living area was a small, open journal resting upon the table by the couches. An inkwell was next to it, drip marks indicating it had been used recently. The quill was strewn across the table. And yet, no writing appeared on the pages. Pulling out his wand, he tried every charm he knew to make invisible ink appear, to no avail.

Curious, he took the quill between his fingers and flicked a drop of ink onto the page. After a moment, it disappeared, though to where, he did not know. As his fingers grazed the book to turn the pages, a sharp, painful electric current traveled up his hand, numbing his arm.

"Fucking hell!" Draco cried out, hissing and clutching his injured arm. Whatever magic the book was bound by was advanced, far more advanced than he believe the girls to be. In that moment, Draco realized that he had been severely underestimating them. With mounting certainty, Draco knew in his gut that there was something not right; something wicked was being hidden behind false smiles and the easy conversations of the Pemberton sisters.

 _It could also just be a diary,_ the voice of reason in Draco's head thought faintly. _Perhaps Ellie and Aria are both private? It certainly would not be a stretch to believe that either of them would keep a journal_. But, another part of Draco's subconscious protested that thought. He had known of a seemingly innocent diary once, and it had almost brought about the return of the Dark Lord.

No, this was odd. Definitely something to report back to Voldemort. But, should he risk taking the journal? The throbbing still pulsing through Draco's arm made him think otherwise about stealing the journal. Besides, it would do no good to alert the women to someone snooping through their room.

 _Even though the wards are doing a proper job of that anyway, you git,_ Draco sullenly thought. Whatever Draco was expecting to find, it was not this-a heavily guarded room with an impenetrable secret journal. When he walked into what he presumed was Ellie's room, pristinely kept and void of any personal touches, he smelled the faint aroma of warm vanilla, a scent he had come to enjoy. The desire to spend time in her room exploring, to learn more about her was unnerving. Never had he felt such a curiosity tugging within him, certainly not after such a short period of time. He inhaled the warm scent of Ellie, and let out a deep sigh.

Of all the things that had become clear to Draco upon realizing the girls were hiding something, Draco knew he would have the most difficult time keeping his guard up around Ellie from now on. Sticking to his mission was of paramount importance; should the women be up to something that Draco failed to notice, there would be severe consequences, not only for himself but for his mother as well. He had mostly expected his paranoia of the women to be unfounded, a repercussion of spending too much time with the Dark Lord. But this? This caused a great uneasiness to settle deep within his gut.

Another quick search of the suite yielded nothing else of any importance, and without further hesitation he opened the fireplace to exit the room. The wards were still lightly humming but he was unable to control that unfortunate outcome. Maybe it would scare them, force the Pemberton sisters to be more careful, send a sense of paranoia through them. It would be well deserved, Draco thought unkindly. After all, they were in the Malfoy Manor, a house controlled by the darkest forces on earth. A bit of fear was healthy to impart upon their guests.

Instead of going to find the Dark Lord, Draco wanted to see the Pemberton sister's a final time before deciding what to report back to his master. Draco mulled over the details of his search as he walked to the rose garden. If Draco were to be honest with himself, he was not quite ready to spill the secrets he had discovered. At least, not without analysis of his own. It was what set him apart from the other Death Eater's, keeping his own mind and thoughts, analyzing all avenues to preserve himself from threat. His reports were always selective; giving enough information to stay on the Dark Lord's good side, while also choosing what he kept private. It made it easier to sleep at night.

When Draco arrived at the garden, he straightened his clothes a bit, and ran a hand through his hair. For an unknown reason, his heart skipped a beat as he pushed the glass door aside and casually strode over to where the women were conversing.

"Excuse me, you were not invited to tea," Narcissa said coolly, though Hermione noticed her eyes light up at the sight of her son. Draco smiled warmly in response, and leaned over to give his mother a kiss on the cheek.

"And miss all the fun?" Draco said amused, taking a seat in between Hermione and Narcissa. As he sat in the chair, his leg lightly- and intentionally-brushed hers. Hermione's heart missed a beat at the subtle touch of Draco's body. These brief touches were becoming all too familiar.

"Speaking of fun," Narcissa began, pausing only to take a dainty sip of tea, "The morale around this place has been simply atrocious. I think it's time for our annual summer ball to liven things up. It's been far too long since we've hosted our friends."

Anxiety overtook Hermione. Of all the things that she dreaded the most, dancing fell high on her list. Clumsy did not even begin to describe how she felt dancing. The last time she truly had to be subjected to that torture was at the Yule ball, and the night could not have gone worse. She suppressed a shudder. Dresses and heels never felt comfortable, as though she were a young girl trying on her mother's clothes.

Draco felt Ellie tense beside him at the mention of the ball and he smirked, momentarily forgetting the inexplicable paraphernalia the search of their room had just yielded. Was she afraid of the dancing, or the male company, Draco wondered?

"You'll never get the Dark Lord to agree to that, you know," Draco said lightly, casually popping a biscuit into his mouth.

"You're right, I won't, but Bella can," Narcissa said. She had clearly already spent a great deal of time ironing out all the details of this ball. Her determination was unwavering, leaving Hermione with no doubt that she would be in heels and a gown in the coming weeks. _Great. Just what I've always wanted...a formal ball full of Death Eaters,_ Hermione thought sardonically.

"I think it's a brilliant idea," Tonks said, setting down her cup of tea. "We've never had the pleasure of attending a ball."

"I cannot imagine!" Narcissa gasped, as though it was one of life's true horrors. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Tonks had a way of feeding in to Narcissa's dramatic side. "I have an entire wardrobe you can look through if you'd like," Narcissa graciously offered.

"That would be excellent," Tonks said with such exuberance that Hermione was having difficulty discerning whether it was faked or real. How could an evening of dancing with _Death Eaters_ of all people, possibly sound fun?

"Elanor, what do you think?" Draco said beside her, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk.

 _The arse,_ Hermione thought. From the way her name glided off his tongue, to his mischievous expression, Hermione sensed he _knew_ the real answer to that question. He was just goading her for a response.

"That sounds fine," Hermione answered tightly, still horrified at the prospect of having to attend an event such as this. Draco's smirk turned into a full grin at her obvious discomfort. If Narcissa noticed her less than enthused response, she chose to graciously ignore it.

"Excellent, then it is settled. We'll have to go over all the arrangements later this week," Narcissa said, standing from the table. "Draco, would you mind escorting them to their room? I must go speak with Bella."

"I'd be honored," Draco said, grinning like a fox. Hermione had no clue what had put him in this light mood, but it was certainly a contrast to how he had treated her earlier.

 _Again with the mood swings,_ Hermione thought in exasperation as Draco guided them out of the garden. Hermione glanced at his mother's retreating form. Perhaps his mood depended upon the company surrounding them, she surmised.

"Hopefully I saved you just in time," Draco whispered as soon as his mother was out of earshot. "I know she can be a bit nosy. Must be jarring for women from such a private upbringing." His suspicions had not ceased since his search of their room, despite the change in his mood. Anything to get them to slip up was welcome to his mission.

"She is lovely," Tonks responded first. Hermione chose to remain silent, slightly peeved at Draco's acrobatic mood, and the fact that she would be attending a Death Eater's ball in a short few weeks. Today was not going in her favor.

"Yes, she is." Draco smiled. His voice sounded proud and humble. "Elanor, will you be available to meet tomorrow in the library?" Draco said as they approached their room. "Now that you have your books, I suggest we start looking for answers. The Dark Lord is an impatient wizard."

His gaze caught her eyes, and his eyebrows creased slightly, trying to read her cool expression.

"Of course," Hermione responded in a whisper. looking down at her feet.

"Excellent, I will meet you after breakfast. Until then," Draco bowed slightly, giving Hermione a small smirk before turning to find the Dark Lord.

As soon as Draco rounded the corner, Hermione pushed the door open to their room and instantly froze as a faint hum reverberated through her ears.

"Someone's been here," Hermione said just loud enough for Tonks to hear. Tonks pushed Hermione behind her, walking carefully into their suite. The door clicked softly shut behind them. Tonks put her finger against her lips, indicating that Hermione should be absolutely silent. The girls carefully walked through each room, wands gripped tightly in their fingers, but alas, they found nothing amiss. Hermione lowered her wand and walked into the common area. She swore her poor heart would be dead with all the excitement after this mission. Upon entering the main room though, Hermione's heart rate soared yet again.

"Tonks! The journal," Hermione gasped, rushing over to the table in the middle of the room where the journal was still lying open on the table.

"Is it possible anyone could have read it?" Tonks said severely, staring at the journal like it could be poisoned. Hermione vehemently shook her head.

"No one can touch it but us. I placed a few extra security measures on it, besides it only reacts to either you or myself," Hermione said confidently. She had no doubt in her own abilities when it came to charms. "But it could raise suspicions. Plus the fact that our room is warded…" Hermione voice trailed off in concern.

"Simply a girl's diary, and our private tendencies were inherited from our grandmother," Tonks explained with an air of aloofness, casually creating the lie should either of them need to explain the situation. Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Let's just hope it doesn't raise the wrong eyebrows."

"We can't leave this out here anymore," Tonks continued. Hermione could see her Auror training in action, one of the first times she really had. Tonks, normally clumsy and absentminded, moved methodically through the room, searching for a place to hide the journal. She settled upon a drawer in the top of Hermione's dresser. She said a quick charm after placing the book within, and when she reopened the drawer, the journal was gone.

"To reveal the journal again, simply…" Tonks moved her wand in a circular fashion, ending with a swift flick. "It's an old trick that's faded in popularity so it should still be effective.

Hermione eyed the charmed drawer, impressed.

"The journal has to be placed here every time after use. Nothing can be left out. Oh! Which reminds me..." Tonks fumbled through her robes and removed a small sheath of cloth. When she unwrapped the tattered cloth, a green pendant shone underneath. It was a simple stone attached to a thin gold chain necklace.

"What is that?" Hermione questioned. A part of her wanted to reach out and touch the pendant, like a clawing in the back of her mind aching to wear the necklace.

"I don't know. It was in Adria's room. But it left me with an odd sort of feeling. It's definitely dark, whatever it is." Hermione nodded in agreement, understanding what Tonks meant by an odd feeling. Since Tonks had uncovered the pendant, Hermione was fighting off a mild irritation in her mind to grab hold of it. She was drawn to it in a way that was entirely unnatural.

"We should keep this in the drawer as well," Hermione began, still feeling uneasy around the dark artifact. "I will try and research it without raising suspicion. Perhaps whenever Draco steps out of the library, or I can stay later at night…" Hermione muttered almost to herself, her brilliant mind working to formulate a solid plan. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Draco always seemed to appear wherever she was; breakfast, the library, walking through the halls, his presence was never far behind. She shivered slightly.

"So speaking of Draco, what's going on between you two?" Tonks bluntly asked, though not in an unkind tone. As she spoke, she wrapped the pendant back in the cloth, and hid it in the charmed drawer, while removing the journal to keep with them. The women walked back to the common area.

"What do you mean?" Hermione questioned, genuinely curious as to what brought about Tonk's line of questioning.

"He hasn't kept his eyes off you all day. It's intense," Tonks said, taking a seat across from Hermione. "There is a weird energy between you two," Tonks spoke with her hands, waving them in Hermione's direction, as though trying to explain a force field that was surrounding her. She momentarily reminded Hermione of Trelawny, and a small sadness settled in her gut.

Hermione sighed. She knew exactly what Tonks was saying, but she could not put it into words. There was a definite pull between the two, and every time Hermione spoke with Draco, the more she was captured under his charming words, and long stares. Yet, she was unwilling to say this out loud to Tonks. "Draco tormented me my whole life. He's cruel to those who aren't of pure blood. It's hard to forgive that," Hermione said honestly. "But we need him for information. If he trusts me, I think I can get him to tell me things. I get a strange feeling he isn't totally under the Dark Lord's control. I mean, he couldn't kill Dumbledore, a task most Death Eater's would have been thrilled to have." Hermione analyzed. "But, on the other hand, Voldemort trusts him. He's a close advisor, and he's obviously been tasked to watch us." Just thinking about the conundrum that was Draco made her head dizzy.

"That's true," Tonks said, though, she was still unsure of Hermione's real feelings on the Malfoy heir. She knew there was more too it, she could nearly _see_ the tension simmering between them. "Just be careful. He's handsome- don't give me that look, you know it's true- but he _is_ a Death Eater, and we don't know his real intentions," Tonks cautioned.

Hermione sighed, "I guess we both need to be more careful. I just don't know how to get more information without getting closer to the people we are supposed to be watching. It's nearly impossible not to," she finished. Truthfully, Hermione knew that she would be unable to stay away from Draco, especially now that she was going to be using his private library to research.

"I know what you mean," Tonks said agreeingly, "I think Narcissa likes us a lot. She was very friendly at tea today, and last night she rescued me from a few awkward moments."

Hermione thought about their hour or so at tea. Narcissa kept up casual conversation, keeping it light. Though she asked a few questions about their upbringing, it was nothing she was concerned about.

"Is that weird for you? I mean, speaking with your mother's sister after everything their family did?"

"The sad part is, I don't mind Narcissa that much...at least when she doesn't have a stick up her arse, or is pretending in front of her social circle. She's different than I thought she would be, honestly," Tonks shrugged. "I always heard horrible stories about Bellatrix growing up, but few about Narcissa. She reminds me of my mother in a lot of ways-"

"Tonks! The journal!" Hermione nearly screamed, as her eyes caught focus of the words seeping up from the depths of the pages. Black ink, scrawled in messy ledger appeared. Hermione grasped for the book, nearly fumbling it with excitement. "The Order!"

 _ **We don't have long. Snatchers found our location. We've kept moving around to keep ourselves hidden. Finally outran them, for now.**_

 _ **Eleanor has been in a dreamless sleep for some time now. We are not aware of any powers she may hold.**_

 _ **Hermione, be absolutely careful with your use of the power, if it can be helped. If you have use of it, it is likely you are pulling it directly through your bond, as if your magical channels are tapped into one another. You would not want to exhaust your own magic while using hers.**_

 _ **In regards to the Elder Wand- it makes perfect sense that Voldemort is searching for it. Those who have used the wand note that it leaves behind a trail of pain, and destruction. To trace the wand, look for that pattern. Keep in mind during your research that whoever stole it from Gregorovitch was powerful, but also must have seen its power in use, in order to have a desire to steal the wand. The person would have known Gregorovitch, and may have been power hungry. I do not think it was a coincidence that particular wand was stolen.**_

Hermione picked up the pen and quickly responded:

 _ **It's Hermione. I do not exactly understand the source of the power either. I do believe the dreams I've been having are direct memories from Eleanor's childhood. It is difficult to explain the power, but I find it to be uncontrollable, in all honesty.**_

Hermione paused in her writing and looked up at Tonks. "Should we mention that someone broke into our room?"

"I think it's best not to worry them," Tonks said thoughtfully. "There is nothing they can do to control that." Hermione nodded and continued writing:

 _ **We have been tasked by the Dark Lord to learn about our family connection to the Elder Wand. We will try and misdirect him for as long as we can. Today we found an old pendant at the Pemberton Manor- an artifact of sorts. I believe it could prove useful to the Order if we figure out what it does. At the very least, it is imperative we keep away from the Dark Lord; he does not need any more fire in his arsenal. We will let you know once we find out anything.**_

Before ending the conversation, Hermione held the quill to her mouth for a moment.

 _ **Is this Remus?**_ She wrote.

 _ **Yes.**_ He replied quickly.

 _ **I'm passing the journal off the Tonks. Let everyone know I love them, and to stay safe. Keep in touch whenever you can.**_

Hermione turned towards Tonks with a small smile."If Minly stops by with dinner, tell her I'm not very hungry. I'm going to bed," She said with a tiny yawn as she nudged Tonks towards the journal.

It felt good to know that the Order was safe. The restless anxiety flowing through her all but ceased, leaving Hermione to truly feel the extent of her exhaustion. Before bed, she made a mental note of all the tasks she had to complete; Locate the Elder Wand before Voldemort did, understand the source of the Peverell's power, figure out what Adria's pendant could do. Oh yes, and not get caught in the process.

The week flew by for Hermione, each day much like the previous one. She would wake up, meet Narcissa for breakfast with Tonks, of which discussion was mostly filled with details of the ball, and then she would leave straight to the library. Draco would normally already be waiting for her, all ready to start their long day together. At the end of the day, she would write a short note back to the Order, explaining anything new she had found. Sadly, there had not been much she did not already know.

The longer the pair spent together, the more Hermione secretly enjoyed their encounters. There was something about Draco, despite his arrogance and cold nature that made her feel powerful. She held his long stares with those of her own, and met his sarcasm with equally clever quips. For every time he intentionally grazed her fingers while they were sharing parchment, she would find some other way to lightly brush against him; sending the same shivers she was feeling down his spine.

Time passed differently in Draco's private library. The hours quickly ticked on while the pair were captivated in their studies. The instant an answer or clue was discovered, both would lean in to examine the evidence, absorbing its words and meaning. Challenging each other's wit became the norm. Each answer found opened up another door, to another line of questions.

"Just because the wand was rumored to be seen in Romania does not mean it made it that far. There is no evidence-"

"Then how do you explain the burning of Eindensaur! One person cannot burn an entire town of that size without that sort of power. " Draco muttered, frustrated.

"Simple actually," Hermione stated, opening up another book beside them and flipping to a page in the middle. A painting of a town engulfed in flames adorned the pages, inks of red and gold burning the edges of the houses depicted. Above the town, a scaled beast hovered.

"Dragons," Draco muttered, unable to help the mix of admiration and jealousy at Eleanor's brilliance.

By the end of the week, Hermione realized she had spent majority of her time sitting besides the Malloy heir, pondering question after question, and finding very few answers. The lack of windows in the library made it difficult to keep track of the daylight, but as Hermione stood up to stretch, her body protested, alerting her to the fact that she had been sitting for far too long. Draco watched as a yawn escaped her lips. Their eyes caught each other for a moment, and Draco gave her a sheepish smile at having been caught staring at her.

"We should probably stop for today," Draco said, reading the signs of exhaustion in her body. "It's late."

"I don't think we've left before sundown once this week," Hermione was impressed by the working habits of Draco. Not many people could sit in a library for an entire week and enjoy themselves, but Draco had been there nearly every hour, matching her determination.

Hermione found herself tangled in the game, lost in a hazy reality that was only possible in the sanctuary of his library. The dim lights, the cozy fireplace, and the smell of old books was intoxicating, nearly impossible to leave behind by the end of the day.

Draco gave her a small smile as they finally left the library, gently bumping her shoulder with his own. "I think we deserve the weekend off."

The calm of the week, however, did not give way to the much deserved lazy weekend. The casual veneer of normalcy was shattered late the next night, forcefully reminding Hermione of the danger she was really in.

A sharp knock at the door to their suite in the evening startled Hermione and Tonks out of their discussion. Tonks hesitantly stood up, reaching to open the door.

Draco, flanked by two other Death Eaters, stood looking very much as cold as he always did when he was on official business. Hermione shuddered at the lack of emotion in his eyes. They were stone, bearing none of the warmth she had become accustomed to over their week in the library together.

"Your presence is required in the parlor. Take your wands. Wear black robes." Draco demanded. He waited silently as the women quickly gathered what they needed. Hermione's heart was pounding. When she gave a small, questioning glance toward Draco, he turned away, coolly ignoring her silent plea for reassurance.

For his part, Draco did feel a small pang of guilt at the hurt look in Ellie's expressive copper eyes. But this was for the best. His nerves were in knots about what was about the transpire. Putting Elanor in more danger by alerting his counterparts of their budding trust was something he desperately hoped to avoid.

When they arrived in the parlor, there were no less than a dozen Death Eater's robed in all black. At the head of the room was Bellatrix, oozing the severity and wickedness that nightmares were comprised from. Draco walked up beside Bellatrix, taking his place on her right hand side. Despite his lean frame, Draco looked just as imposing as Bellatrix, a cool statue void of humanity. Hermione could read nothing from his face.

"It's time to strike fear into the pathetic hearts of more muggles," Bellatrix's shrill voice sent a sharp shiver down Hermione's spine. "The muggles we are seeing tonight have a daughter who wrongly received a letter to Hogwarts. Courtesy of the Carrows, we are going to personally deliver her rejection letter and teach them where their place in this world really is." The room broke out into hearty laughs and applause. Draco did not move, but as he surveyed the room, he saw the absolute look of the horror on Ellie's face.

All the air from Hermione's lungs collapsed, leaving her breathless as she realized what they were about to be a part of. From besides her, Tonks stiffened. Under the false security of Draco's library, it was so easy to forget the real terror of the Death Eater's.

And now she was to bear witness to their reign of malevolence.

Bellatrix gave them the location they were to meet at, a well known monument just off of the main square in a small town near London, and then her and Draco disapparated from the room. Loud popping noises followed from around them. Tonks took a deep breath, and gave Hermione a painful glance. Her eyes conveyed her hurt, her unwillingness to go, but, she too disapparated. Knowing she had no choice, Hermione followed.

Hermione arrived a moment later next to the large, stone nostalgia of this place was unnerving. She had been here on many school trips as a child, and the memories brought her back to happier days spent traveling with her parents. What would have happened if she had never gone to Hogwarts? Her stomach turned at the thought. This was her life- it was where she belonged. Was she really about to witness a child be ripped from the joys of learning more about her power?

The group walked in silence amongst the shadows toward a small neighborhood before turning to a house on the corner. It was an average house, nothing abnormal or impressive about it, but it held a certain charm and warmth. It looked like the home Hermione had grown up in.

As they approached the door, Bellatrix whispered back, "You all know what to do." Her gums were showing as her mouth pulled back in a wicked smile, her greying teeth catching the light above the front door.

"Tonks, go with Goyle and Crabbe. You, follow me," Draco demanded, looking right at Hermione. His domineering tone caused her to narrow her eyes at him in displeasure, but nonetheless, she followed. The house was pitch black, and the family was likely sleeping. Their footsteps were silent against the floor, thanks to a charm Draco cast before they began walking. Hermione was trying furiously to develop a plan. If she could just stay ahead of Draco, perhaps she could warn the muggle family to run, or hide. Maybe she could use her newfound power to save them. A timid hope arose in her chest. She had to try anything to help.

"I don't need you getting hurt, stay close to me," Draco leaned down and whispered in her ear before they traveled up the stairs.

Hermione went to take the first step down the dark hallway, but from behind her, Draco gripped her arms, and walked in front of her.

"I'll go first," He said, concerned. The action miffed Hermione.

"I can take care of myself, you know," Hermione huffed, frustrated by Draco's show of masculinity. Honestly, what was it with men and believing they always had to save a woman, as though she were a damsel in distress every moment of her life?

"I'd prefer if you were not put in any unnecessary danger. You don't know what these raids can be like," Draco said icily.

"You've done nothing but try and protect me since we've stepped foot in this bloody house. If you thought I couldn't handle it, then why did you bring me here?" Hermione challenged, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Enough," Draco whispered through gritted teeth, rounding on Hermione. "Stay close behind me and do as you are told." Ellie infuriated him sometimes, with her know it all attitude and her endless supply of courage. She reminded him in a strange way of one of his old schoolmates, with her Gryffindor self-righteousness.

For her part, Hermione did not know why she was fighting with Draco. She knew the danger she was in, the danger the sleeping Muggle family was about the face. But with him beside her, she also knew she would be limited in what she could do to stop this. There had to be a way to warn the poor family, without putting herself and Tonks at risk, but, her tired mind was having a difficult time formulating a plan.

The hallway at the top of the stairs was dark, and yet Hermione thought she could see a small shadow of movement at the end. She squinted her eyes, confirming what she had seen a moment too late.

Through the dark hallway, the muggle man shot a gun before Draco had a moment to react. A loud shot cracked through the air, nearly shattering Hermione's eardrums in the process. Oddly enough, though the moment was quick, the flash and the gunsmoke instant, time froze for Hermione; her body moved before the bullet had made half the distance between its point of entry into the air, and Draco's heart. Hermione's wand dropped to the ground as she threw her hands out before her body. An invisible shield thrust forth from her fingertips, radiating in the air between Draco and the silver bullet meant to kill him.

From the force of the bullet colliding with her invisible shield, a blast was sent back. At the end of the hallway Hermione heard the man hit the wall with a soft thud. Through the shadows she could see his legs sprawled out in an unnatural angle beneath him.

Draco bent over, picking Ellie's wand up from the ground where she had dropped it. He momentarily shut his eyes while he attempted to replay the moment where he had nearly lost his life.

"What the fuck was that?" Draco demanded in a harsh whisper. His breath warmed her face as he hovered over her small form. She was cornered between the wall and his body, nearly invisible amongst the dark shadows of the hallway.

"You're welcome," Hermione sarcastically bit out, instantly defensive. She had no idea how she was going to walk herself out of this one. The racing of her heart was deafening. All she longed to do was go see if the man was okay.

"Elanor, I suggest you start explaining yourself. Now." Draco sternly replied, his face devoid of any discernable emotion. Somehow, despite this, Hermione could feel his anger, the heat rising between them. His whispered words hovered just over her own lips.

"I… it's just wandless magic," Hermione struggled with her words, too distracted by Draco's intimidating proximity to her.

"I know wandless magic…that was unlike any I've seen," Draco countered. He could not explain the magic he had just witnessed. _Magic to save you,_ Draco thought. The shield, the force of which he'd never seen before, was produced far too quickly. Her reflexes outperformed any other wizard's. No words had been uttered, no semblance of a thought seemed to be given. Once out of her body, the power was palpable, and crackled in the air; even now he could physically _feel_ the remnants floating around him, caressing his senses like a delicate finger lightly dragging across his skin. No, this certainly felt different, more powerful. An ill feeling overtook his stomach as the words of the Dark Lord came back to him. Ellie did in fact have a special ability.

Hermione did not get the moment to defend herself. From up the stairs, Bellatrix and two others appeared.

"Draco, what was that?" She hissed, sounding much like the Dark Lord himself.

Draco pointed towards the end of the hallway with his wand, " _Lumos."_ The man's mangled body illuminated. The force of the blast had caused his head to crack against the plaster walls, a thin trail of blood was seeping down the side of his bruised face. His legs were unnaturally tucked beneath him. There was, however, no bullet wound. In fact, the bullet had passed through the wall, leaving a small hole in its place. Hermione's eyes widened at the scene, her mouth frozen in a grimace.

 _I caused this._ Hermione could not help but think back to her dream in which Elanor's magic had killed her parents. Another tragedy to bind the women's souls.

Draco walked up to the man, and rested his ear against the man's chest, taking his pulse as he listened.

"He's dead," Draco said. Draco swallowed slightly, composing himself. His voice was as cold as the dead man's body looked. "Let's find the others."

Hermione was frozen; in fear, in disgust of herself, in agony. She had killed a man. An innocent muggle who had done nothing to deserve the finality of death. And now they were looking for his family.

The Death Eaters broke down the remaining doors, hooting and laughing as they overturned furniture.

"'Oye, look what I found here!" A deep snarl erupted from one of the rooms. The high pitched scream of a child pierced the darkness, and Hermione thought she was going to lose the contents of her stomach. _Just breath, you will survive this,_ Hermione told herself over and over. This was a dream, it could not be real.

"Please, please don't hurt her. Please," A woman pleaded, her voice thick with tears and terror. "My child," She hiccuped, out of breath. The Death Eater's walked out of the room, the young girl and her mother levitating behind them.

"To the kitchen!" Bellatrix laughed, causing the mother to grimace. Bellatrix broke all the lights on her way down the stairs, giddy with excitement. As she went through the living room, family portraits shattered as they crashed to the ground, and the glass from the TV exploded out of place. Hermione numbly followed, trying endlessly to think of ways to save them. She did not know how to control her power, and every time she thought she felt it bubbling in her veins, the image of the dead muggle man stopped her. What if she killed them, instead of helping?

When they entered the kitchen, Tonks shot Hermione a look of relief, then a fearful glance, reading the utter heartache emanating from her body.

"Now, it is my understanding that you received a letter?" Bellatrix began, staring at the shaking girl who had been placed on the floor in front of her. The girl was thin, with scraped knees and messy brown hair. Her nose was bleeding slightly. The child nodded her head.

"Why are you-" Her mother tried to ask. Bellatrix rolled her eyes and a white flash of light protruded from her wand. The woman hit the tile floor hard, her head smashing against the ground. Her mouth opened in pain, but no sound came out, as though it were stuck in her throat, too painful to control.

"Now where was I," Bellatrix turned back to the young girl. Violently, she grabbed the young girl's thin arm. A small cry passed her lips.

"Please-" The small voice began to speak.

"Please, please, please…" Bellatrix mocked. "That's all you muggles ever ask. Pathetic souls, you don't deserve Hogwarts. You don't deserve magic." She screeched, pointing her wand at the girl. "You will learn your place, my dear. _Crucio."_

Since the start of the war, Hermione had seen people tortured, many of whom she loved. But this, the torture of a child, one so innocent and helpless, this broke a piece of her heart. A girl who reminded Hermione of herself, of her own family, so helplessly caught in a battle she should have had no part in.

In her mind, Hermione thought back to when she had saved Gregorovitch. P _erhaps I could put them to sleep, so they feel no pain?_ The urgent cries of the child, her piercing scream which stabbed Hermione's consciousness, ignited the power within her, overthrowing her fear. Closing her eyes briefly, she expelled a shield forward through her fingertips. It cast forward like a ripple, though no one else was aware of it's presence. As it passed over the girl, Hermione thought about nothing but saving her, about lulling her into a deep sleep.

The force of the wave was more controlled, slowly passing over the family, instead of crashing into them. Bellatrix, as she shot curse after curse towards the family, was ignorant to the fact that their eyes had slowly closed, and their bodies had gone limp. She continued on for a few more minutes, until Draco walked up to her and touched her arm.

"Aunt Bella," He whispered cautiously. The blaze in her eyes flicked as Draco nodded down to the limp, bleeding bodies underneath her. The girl's face was swollen and red, her eyes bloodied shut. Her mother was in no better shape, her hand reaching out helplessly for her daughter. Draco kneeled next to the bodies, his knees sliding in thick blood that had seeped from a wound on the mother's leg.

"They are dead," Draco called up after a few minutes. His aunt smirked at him, her eyes crinkling in the corners as though this were the happiest moment of her existence. Hermione's insides turned.

"Excellent! Let's make sure the rest of them hear our message loud and clear," Bellatrix jeered as she skipped out of the house.

Hermione glanced back at the lifeless bodies, her own numb. Truthfully, the trip back to the Manor was a blur, one that felt like a nightmare. The Dark Mark hovering above the house, a badge of terror, kept flashing in her mind, bleeding with the images of the muggle family that was too much a reminder of her own.

When they were back in the parlor, and the Death Eaters had all begun to leave, high off the events of the night, Draco watched as Adria half carried her sister out of the room. Both women were looking at the ground. Draco wanted to run after them, to explain that he too felt sickened by the work of the Death Eaters, as he know they had been, but he could not. Duty called.

As with any raid, Draco was to report all the details back to the Dark Lord. When he had found his master, he retold the details of the torture, their success in killing the family, and the Dark Mark left behind. It was standard, summed up in only a few sentences.

"And the girls?" Voldemort inquired. Draco hesitated for a moment, and the Dark Lord's eyebrows rose, ever so slightly.

In any other circumstance, Draco could not have cared less what happened to the individual who he informed Voldemort about. But this… this was different, and Draco had not the faintest idea why. He cared about the consequences of his discussions. Should he bring up the secret journal, the heavily guarded room of the Pemberton's, and Ellie's power, the Dark Lord would not hesitate to use her for her power and be rid of her. Draco could not accept that consequence, it was too heavy for him to bear. Particularly after she had just saved his life. In an odd way, he felt he owed her this moment… at least for the time being. Closing off his mind, Draco answered.

"They obeyed all commands that were tasked to them," Draco said. It was not entirely a lie. Draco thought about his own secret, his distaste for violence, Severus' last gift to him, his mistrust of his family. Everyone had secrets, he supposed. Who was he to judge the Pemberton sister's for a power they couldn't control? And the journal… well, it was likely only a diary of sorts, though, from his previous experience, he knew even the most innocent looking things could be deadly. Truthfully, Draco had noticed Ellie's discomfort when asked certain questions, her quiet nature, and although it was something he found mildly suspicious, he was unwilling to divulge the detail with the Dark Lord. Particularly when he himself was harboring secrets.

A growing discomfort was taking root in his stomach, much like days leading up to his mission to kill Dumbledore. The weight of his actions were nearly impossible to escape; The physical changes they had caused in him, the extreme paleness, the lack of appetite and dark eye circles were all signs of this burden he carried. Suspicions be damned, he was not quite ready to be done this mission. In a way, his own selfishness outweighed his feelings of indebtedness; He simply wanted to spend more time with her.

"I will continue to monitor them for anything peculiar. They are working with my mother to plan the upcoming ball," Draco divulged. "How is the search for the Elder Wand?" Draco changed subjects slyly.

The Dark Lord's face hardened, and his eyes became nothing more than lines across his face. "Gregorovitch has been far less helpful than I anticipated. I've all the information from him that I believe he has. I need you to continue to follow rumors surrounding the wand. The answer is there, I know it is. I've been searching for Ollivander…" Voldemort's face curled into a menacing smile, "...to get a second opinion of sorts. Now, leave me, Draco."

Draco bowed slightly, "I am confident Elanor and I will find the wand before long, My Lord." He was used to the Dark Lord's finicky moods, and abrupt dismissals. It took all of Draco's remaining energy to keep his posture straight. The instant he entered his room, he walked over to his bar, gulping down fire-whiskey as his shoulders sagged forward, burdened by the weight of his actions.

* * *

Hermione did not sleep at all that night. Silent tears ran down her face as she replayed the images of the poor muggle family she could not save. She felt like a coward, a cheap excuse for a witch. There were many things in life that she had managed to handle with dignity, but this was not one. No amount of convincing herself could work. She had chosen her own safety, the safety of her mission over innocent lives. In the end her efforts had just not been enough. Despite her knowledge that this was for the greater good, that the Order needed this, her justification sounded weak. A young girl was denied of her birth right to grow into a powerful witch, and she was responsible.

As the hours slowly ticked by, she became more upset. With tears stinging the corner of her eyes, leaving sticky trails down her red face, she decided she could not stay here any longer. Sitting up in bed, she threw the covers off of her body and sought out the only place in this damned mansion that held any ounce of comfort. Even in the darkness of the hallways, she could now mindlessly find her way to the secret library.

As she entered the warm room, some of the tension in her shoulders dissipated. The stress she was feeling was exhausting; the acting was draining her of all her energy, in a way that Hermione had never felt before. She had pulled years of all nighters studying at Hogwarts, but nothing could compare to this type of weight she carried on her shoulders, the weight of her life and the lives of all her loved ones.

The warm light of the fire caressed her as she lay upon the couch, lulling her into a false sense of security. With tears still running down her porcelain cheeks, she drifted off into a dream filled slumber.

" _You must control your emotions. That will drive your power," Her grandmother reprimanded._

" _I, I can't…" Elanor said in a small voice, clearly intimidated by the malice of Madam Pemberton._

" _You can. You're just afraid, as usual," Madam Pemberton sneered. "Why could it not have been Adria who inherited this power!" She shrilled as she stared at the helpless girl on the floor before her. Elanor picked herself up off the floor._

" _What if I lose control again? What if I hurt someone?" Elanor asked. Hermione could sense her underlying pleading with her grandmother to understand why she was afraid._

" _This power is meant to hurt, Elanor. You've inherited a gift, and you're wasting it!" Madam Pemberton sounded positively lethal now as she took a step closer to Elanor threateningly. "This is the power that can rid the world of muggles, so that we do not have to be in the shadows any longer. You're the bargaining piece we are to present to the Dark Lord, to have the ultimate seat of power when the wizarding world finally rises again."_

" _I can't!" Elanor nearly shouted back. "I don't want this power-"_

A warm hand grasped Hermione's shoulder, jolting her awake.

"Ellie, wake up," A concerned, deep voice whispered. Draco's brow was furrowed, his normally icy eyes dripping with melted concern.

Hermione sat up, feeling the after effects of Elanor's fear. The power coursing through her veins was awake, like a serpent under the surface of her skin, slithering its way through her blood. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her fear, and turn off the emotions, like Elanor must have learned over the years. Suddenly, Elanor's blank, crisp bedroom, and the feelings of apathy Hermione had seen her display all made sense.

Hermione pushed Draco's hand off her shoulder. She didn't have time to deal with him at the moment. She could not look at him without feeling disgust. He was a part of this. How many times had he been complicit in the harming of innocent muggles, in the name of supposed blood-purity? _How can he live with himself?_ She squared her shoulders and stood up from the couch.

When Draco saw her face, her copper eyes dull against the redness her tears had caused, all he could see was her revulsion of him. His heart sank. She thought him a monster. Before he could explain himself, explain what had really happened she turned away from him.

The coldness she exuded reminded him of their earlier encounters, before their daily meetings in the library, their shared flirtation and whispered secrets. It felt much worse than Draco anticipated, and he desperately craved her attention.

"Ellie, wait-"

"I'm done for today," Hermione stated. Before Draco could answer, she swiftly walked out of the room, leaving him once again frustrated at their exchange.

Hermione knew she could be destroying everything by walking out like that, by wearing her heart on her robes. What if Draco told Voldemort of her power? Though she was unsure, it was likely Draco had already reported back to him. The lesson in her dream, to control her emotions, was an important one. Hermione took a calming breath, trying to flush the anger out of her system as she walked back to her room to see Tonks. Though she knew it was no use letting Draco get under her skin- it would only end badly for herself- she could not face him now. Not when her emotions were so raw. Some things in life cannot ever be forgiven, and this, Hermione thought, was one of them. Maybe Draco was just as hideous as she had remembered from Hogwarts.

* * *

Across the manor, Draco thought of the small glass vial hiding in his room, the parting mystery of his Godfather. Ellie, in all her brilliance would likely be able to solve this conundrum, if ever he could trust her enough with a secret that would put his life on the line. What would Severus think of his treatment of Ellie? Would he approve? Would he look down upon it, like he did most feelings? Draco wished he had someone to talk to, anyone at all he could bounce his theories off of without fear of retribution.

Draco groaned. There was no use thinking of things that would never be. One thing was certain, tomorrow, he would somehow have to win back Ellie's trust. The look of disgust upon her face, a look that he was responsible for, made his stomach churn. He needed to explain himself, explain what had really happened during the raid, even if it risked putting him in danger.

With another sigh, Draco walked to the couch in the library, confused, and with a heavy heart at the internal turmoil he felt. There were many times Draco felt entirely alone in the cold vastness of the manor, and today was no exception.

* * *

 **A/N: This is the longest chapter I've ever written! *pats self on back* I keep going back to the chapters and adding as I get new ideas, and sometimes it gets away from me. So many questions… so few answers. Can the Order protect Elanor? Will Draco ever learn his Godfather's secret? What power does Adria's necklace hold? Can Hermione learn to forgive Draco? Let me know what you all think!**

 **While you are waiting for me to update this story, keep an eye out for Chapter 11 of _The Labyrinth_ in the next coming week. Comments, predictions and critiques are always welcome! Favorite, and follow if you are enjoying. Until next time- AMJ **


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